


The Beginning

by Ever_Clear3



Series: Adaptation: The Only Way to Survive [1]
Category: Blade (Movie Series), Blade - All Media Types, Blade: The Series
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-06-07 20:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15227625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ever_Clear3/pseuds/Ever_Clear3
Summary: Dissatisfied with the current nature of vampires, The Vampire King, Drake, has taken it upon himself and his chosen Mate to tear down the disenchanted notion of vampirism and bring it back to its former glory. Traveling from Vampire House to House, they will stop at nothing to bring rogue Nations back to heel





	1. Chapter 1

Hannibal awoke slowly. He recognized the dull ache in his shoulder from the wound he received not even two days prior. He groaned silently to himself and turned his head, recognizing the ground he was as on. It was the same cold hard floor that he knew only existed in the Talos building; it put a strain on his stiff muscles stretching from his shoulders radiating down to his back and hips. He gingerly turned the rest of his body to lie on his back, when he heard the faint clanking of chains. This got him to fully open his eyes. He blinked multiple times when weak sunlight filtered from above him and allowed him to take in his surroundings properly. He shifted and brought up one of his chained hands to block the light filtering through. He turned his head a bit to see more and released a quiet moan of pain. The room was the same and yet different from the last time he had been held in captivity. It was a large rectangle in size with only one door in front of him and the small skylight above. He raised the arm a little further form his eyes and took note of the thick bands of metal about each wrist. There were tight enough to ensure that he couldn’t easily slip his hands through but they were still loose. That immediately alerted him to knowing that it wasn’t Danica who chained him. Another fun fact of knowing it wasn’t her, or that jarhead Jarko or even sissy-ninny Asher was that one he had clothes (the most obvious reason) and two: though limited he could move positions from the amount of give he had on the chains, but he just couldn’t stand. Since now, his ass was killing him and not in the good way he opted to moving onto his knees. It took some time, involving a lot of small movements and a whole lot of cursing from sleeping nerves being woken up again but he was up, an accomplishment if he could say so himself.

Having reached his new position, he observed that he was dressed in boots, pants and a wife beater. That was more than what he had on when he was lying in bed with only a bandage on. And said bandage had recently been changed. It was strange a type of hospitality to be on the receiving from the Talos siblings, who he knew were more prone to letting you rot in your own filth and letting wounds fester. Thinking on hospitality, he recalled the other Nightstalkers and he wondered what became of them, especially for Zoë. He shifted positions so that he was now sitting cross legged on the ground,  all he could remember was being up late watching an old black and white movie with Zoë and Sommerfield. Zoë had been on the narrow hospital bed with him idly playing with his hand. It had been nearing nine-thirty when Sommerfield announced it was time for bed.

_“Alright mommy.” Zoë said softly. She turned on the bed and looked at Hannibal. She gave him a small smile and kissed his cheek._

_“Get better Uncle Hanni” she told him before turning to her mother._

_“Mom, can we read about the Gnome King before bed?” she asked._

_Sommerfield walked to the bed, her cane moving slightly in front her. She came to a stop next to Zoë and placed a hand on her daughters’ head. She stroked the fine hairs and smiled down at her gently._

_Hannibal took in the two fondly and strengthened his resolve to fight against the vampires. For all the children who wanted to be tucked in bed and a story told to, along with the smile that lit up Sommerfield’s face._

_“Sure baby”, she responded moving to take Zoë’s hand._

_“Goodnight yourself Doodlebear.” he responded lovingly. Sommerfield chuckled at them both and took a step back from the bed with Zoë still in hand._

_“Sleep well Hannibal, and let me know if the shoulder still bothers you in the morning.” she spoke softly, before turning away to leave the room._

_“Night Sommerfield.” Hannibal replied._

_The mother and daughter stopped just in the doorway and Zoë reached up on tip toes and lowered the dimmer for the lights._

_“Remember to sleep.” Zoë stated when she finished and watched as Hannibal arranged himself on the bed carefully and pulled the thin blanket up to settle and continue to watch the movie._

_Hannibal found himself jerking awake sometime later, he looked around the room and noted the time at a quarter past ten. The movie was still on droning low in the background, Hannibal knew something was wrong. He could damn near feel it. The hairs on his arms were up and he felt goosebumps prickly his skin. There was a danger present but the pain medication dulled his senses too much to figure who or what it was._

_For a while he settled on staring at the T.V. while his thoughts turned, but as the minutes rolled on he became aware that there was something just out the corner of his eye. Obscured mostly by shadow, he could make out the faintest shape of a person; tall by the looks of it. He turned his head slightly and focused on what he saw. Forcing his vision to clear, the black mass took on the shape of a man. They had long hair that came to about their shoulder the color un-discernable but he stood at least six feet tall. The man began to step forward and was illuminated by the low glow of the T.V., Hannibal knew this man. He easily remembered the wrinkled yet strong features of the face. They told the story of seeing many things and doing just as many. When he came to the foot of the bed the name of this man finally came to Hannibal._

_‘Whistler’ his mind whispered along with another revelation._

_Confusion colored his features as he tried to comprehend what was before him._

_“Dude, you’re dead” he breathed out._

_The would-be Whistler gave a wicked smirk and walked to the side of bed standing next to Hannibal’s laxed hand. Just as Hannibal took his next breath, the impostor struck with lightning speed, covering his mouth and nose. He heard the heart monitor’s beeping steadily increased as it picked up his frantic heart when the impostor morphed into the Vampire King. His eyes opened wide and fear coursed through him. He tried to use sluggish arms to fight against the hold on him._

_Hannibal’s breathing turned frantic as the vampire, Drake, only tightened his grip his nails digging into the struggling man’s cheeks. Black spots appeared in his gaze as his struggles lessened. Drake tilted his head and regarded him with curiosity. Hannibal took one last feeble breath, his feet kicking wildly before he settled on the bed into unconsciousness. The heart monitor eased its frantic beeping and settled to subtle beating of Hannibal’s heart._

The sound of a door being unlocked brought Hannibal back to the present, he was unaware of how much time had passed but looking around his cell it was clearly dark outside and the lights embedded into the parameter of the room had been turned on to illuminate the enclosed space. The door opened silently and Hannibal brought himself to stand straight on his knees. The Talos siblings entered the room along with Jarko. Brother and sister were impeccably dressed as always. Danica’s hair was done in the currently popular style while Asher kept his cropped. Jarko was the only one who seemed out of place with the duo. The pair were beautiful in appearance but that was just about it. Hannibal faintly recalled the years he had spent with the Talos. The blood, sex and violence that all went hand in hand when it came to these three.

“Hannibal King” Danica spoke first coming to stop in front of him as Jarko and Asher stood on either side of her surrounding Hannibal. “So nice to see you finally awake” she began.

“Well it’s nice to see you too, but I do need my beauty sleep” he responded. “Hmm speaking of which maybe you all should go back to sleep on a more permanent bases.”

Danica arched an eyebrow while Jarko took one stop forward and slammed his meat fist into Hannibal’s jaw. Pain bloomed from the blow and threw his head sharply to the side. Blood immediately pooled in his mouth from splitting his lip on his tooth and cooper bloomed in his mouth; a taste he was intimately familiar with. He turned and looked defiantly at Jarko, glaring at the man before he spat the mouthful of blood at his feet.

“That, you fuck, was completely uncalled for. I was only speaking the truth that no one seems to have the balls to say to you.”

Asher chucked and moved to recline against the wall.

“I always did love that mouth of yours Hannibal.” the hidden implication clear.

Hannibal mimicked laughing.

“Go fuck your sister.”

“Been there done that, got a nifty t-shirt too” was his blasé reply, as he pulled a cigarette from his inner jacket pocket. He quickly lit up, inhaling deeply he flicked the lighter closed and slipped it back into the pocket.

“So, what is this, my last rights before you kill me?”

“Something like that,” was Danica’s reply.

“Well in that case I want a cheeseburger with the works, large fries and a diet coke. Trying to watch my figure.” he said with a smirk. “Why don’t you go fetch that big boy.” he inclined his head to Jarko and gave a jaunty wink.

That got him hit again in the exact same spot.

“I was talking to her!” he shouted at the big lug. “We all know that Danica has the bigger dick of you guys.”

“And you would know huh Hannibal.” Asher said, blowing out a puff of smoke.

 “Well yeah, ‘cause it was first yours and she has Jarko’s balls.”

“Enough!” Danica shouted, taking a step towards Hannibal. Her hands had raised and were now clenching at her waist. “Cease this talk of dicks and balls. It provokes my envy.” She hissed, her eyes squinting and filled with hatred. Hannibal knew it was a soft spot for her, he remembered one of the few times he and Asher talked and he brought up how from the time period they were born, Danica had lived under constant pressure and disappointment. The first was to be married off quickly and the other was the shame that she hadn’t been born a boy. Add on to the fact that she had a volatile attitude, no one wanted to marry her or be around her. Thus she only Asher, and when presented with the option of eternity and having who ever she wanted, she took it and her brother too. To immortality and in other ways.

“Awe shucks no need to be jealous, there’s surgery for that now ya’ know.” He replied cheekily and wagged his eyebrows.

Danica snarled at the man and bared her teeth, taking an aggressive step forward she backhanded him, hard. The force alone surprised him, and he head whipped to the side. Hannibal found himself blinking a few times just to clear his vision again. Of course, Asher and Jarko chuckled as he groaned in pain.

“Alight sweetie, why don’t you take a sugar-coated fuck from my dick and die in a corner somewhere.”

“I’m tired of these games.” she huffed, and turned away from him. She tucked a few strands back into her pony-tail that had fallen when she struck him. “Tell us what we want to know.”

“I’m all ears babe, ask away.”

Danica rolled her eyes.

“Where is Blade and Whistler?” she asked.

“They went out to get our decoder rings.”

That earned a punch in the gut from Jarko.

“Fuck!” he coughed out and doubled over grabbing at his stomach. Jarko pulled back again and laid his fist into his face, sending his body to the unforgiving concrete hard. He grunted but kept back the moan of pain this time.

He coughed a few times but managed to catch his breath, he brought himself back up to his knees. “Jarko!” he called, as the hulking man turned away from him and licked the blood from his knuckles.

“What shit-face.”

Hannibal rolled the blood through his mouth, gathering spit into the wad and spat. “You still hit like a bitch” he grinned with blood stained teeth.

Jarko growled loudly and went to charge but was stop by Asher who moved in front of him.

“No need to pitch a bitch fit Jar.”

Danica turned her attention back to King. She herself was getting tired at the moment.

“King” she began sweetly, “Tell me where they are?”

Hannibal looked into her cold blue eyes steadily. He had never been afraid of Danica and the others. He was just aware of the damages they could cause and what he himself could do. Which was why he always let his mouth get away from him, so he could see how far they went before they broke. And for those three the fuse was steadily getting shorter while he built up an immunity to them.

“Kitten. I can’t tell you where they’re at, but I will tell you where they will be “ he stated.

Her eyes showed genuine surprise at his response.

“Oh really, and where will that be?”

“Why here of course. I expect they are gearing up to come and open a can of whoop ass so big they could probably fit Jarko’s big ass inside with room to spare.”

Her lips pressed together and she lifted one foot to press the heel into his wound.

“Hgmm, fuck!”

“And how will they do that?” she asked twisting the heel in.

He coughed up blood a little and it dribbled down his chin.

“Why with the nifty tracking device that comes standard with all Nightstalkers when they join the Honeycomb hideout. Mine just so happens to be in my left butt cheek”

She lowered her foot and he sighed with relief when the pressure let up. Then she slapped. Her nails dug into the tender flesh of his face leaving three open cuts in his face. Danica got in face now and she was breathing heavily on unneeded air.

She mused and moved closer. She grabbed his shoulders and whispered in his ear. “Let me tell you this King. I don’t care when they’re here. But know this, I will have fun with you ‘til they do. And when you’ve just about have enough I’m gonna turn you…again King”

Hannibal forced himself to remain at least outwardly while his heart pounded. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing what those words did to him. She leaned back and grabbed his chin, forcing him to make eye contact with her. They stench of her blood breath covered his face and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. Oh, how he wanted more than anything to be free and dust all three of these sons-of-bitches. “…when you’re weak and crying out for food, I’m gonna bring in the little girl” that brought him from his musings and he narrowed his gaze.

“I’m gonna let you feed from her King and drain her dry” she finished quietly. No false bravado, just plain simple truth were the words Hannibal next to Danica.

“The day you follow through with the threat Danica is the day I’ll stop at nothing to kill you and your little fuck toys” his smile was sharp and predatory like the vampire he once was.

For the first time, all the years that he knew Danica Talos, he felt her fear what he would do to her. He knew only one other person who ever looked at her with such hate and that has been Asher, just after she forced the turning on him and he killed for the first time. He knew that Asher only stayed because they were all that each other had, and they both didn’t have the guts to dust each other. The fear of being alone for eternity does put some things into perspective.  

“I look forward to it” she managed to get out. She tried to smirk but Hannibal saw through it. He jerked his chin from Danica’s grasp just as she stood up to take a step back. She made an effort in brushing away the invisible dirt and creases in her outfit, before turning away from King and heading to the door. Jarko and Asher looked at each other momentarily. Though they heard the conversation and thought it entertaining, they completely missed the under laying tone and found Danica’s mood now odd. But neither really gave it much thought as she always went through a variety of moods in a span of minutes.

Hannibal brought himself up on his knees and straightened himself as much as the chains would allow. There was no way he was going to cower in front of these pathetic pieces of corpses. When Danica turned after leaving the room, Hannibal kept his eyes on her. She looked back at him and they locked eyes for a second, he inclined his head to her, clearly a challenge on his part. He knew he was gambling with Zoë’s life, but he’d rather have her blood on his hands this way then doing nothing and letting these assholes do whatever they pleased with her. Danica narrowed her eyes back at King. It seemed a bit of her attitude had returned before she completely turned away from him. Asher shook his head at them both. He moved away from Jarko and pulled up the sleeve of his left arm revealing his family vampire glyph on his inner wrist. He lifted said arm and moved to a part of the seamless wall and revealed an opening. There he place his hand through the whole where a blue light briefly shone and scanned across his pale skin. The laser hummed reading the mark, beeping faintly when it registered the mark as acceptable. With a soft hiss, the outline of a door was revealed illuminated with a soft blue light. It slid open with a whisper and revealed an empty hallway its edges a glow with small lights that disappear into the distance.

Hannibal stayed in his position as the three left the room, he remained so until the doors closed again with a hiss. A sudden weight began to sit on his chest and he found it difficult to breath, just only for a second. He took a gasping breath and held himself composed for a few more moments. His body slumped forward slowly and he let out a gasp of breath.  He began panting and a lump formed in his throat, his breathing came in gasping breaths. He hadn’t cried since he was ten when he was first abused by his father and he wouldn’t now. It was sign of weakness he refused to show. Easing the weight off his knees he maneuvered himself into a sitting position. Crossing his legs Indian style and placing one shackled wrist on each knee. He closed his eyes to bring his breathing back under control as he shut the world out around him.

He chuckled to himself for a second as the thought of Abby finding him this way. For all his chaotic appearance, he did enjoy mediating. It kept some of the craziness away from his and Zoë took care of the rest. With her in mind he eased his thoughts and hatred he had towards Danica and her ilk.

 

 

It seemed for once Danica was going to be true to her word. She actually took it upon herself to enter his cell and begin his daily beatings. After each session he was given very little water and food to further stretch the abuse. She would leave after a period of five to ten hours. She herself always started with proceedings off, then she take would take a step back and snap her fingers. Four sometimes six of her goon would come in and work him over. Three times out of the week Jarko would join and those days were always the worst making him wish for death. What did come as a pleasant surprise was that Asher hadn’t joined. The most shocking thing of his stay was Asher bringing him food and water.

The other had been gone for some time now. He was lying on his side curled in a ball. Hunger gnawed at his stomach and thirst clawed his throat. Pain radiated through his entire body, but what drew his attention the most was the throbbing pain of his shoulder. Danica took it upon herself to plunge a stiletto into the healing wound. Only in this solitude did he let out a whimper of pain and frustration after a weeks’ worth of beatings.

His other hand was curled in his hair clenching at the strands when he heard the door open softly. He lifted his head ad glared at the door, a sharp reply on his tongue when his voice lost him.

Asher stepped in quietly regarding Hannibal as a caged animal. He was dressed down wearing a pair of forest green slacks and a beige long sleeve sweater that hand been fitted from chest to waist. In one hand was a small bag and the other two bottles of water. He stopped within a foot of Hannibal. Hannibal only watched Asher wearily, lifting his head slightly, he worked the blood in his mouth and mixed it with spit. Turning slightly he spat out the mouthful  with a puff of breath.

“What are you doin’ here Asher?” he asked tiredly, not bothering to look at him.

“Oh, is that anyway you treat a person who’s trying to help you?” he asked.

Hannibal would have rolled his eyes if it weren’t so painful. Asher shook the bag in his hand as a way of explanation.

“I’m not eating that.”

Asher dropped the bag and opened one of the waters. He took a sip of it showing Hannibal that it wasn’t poisoned. Hannibal released the pained grip he had on his hair and slowly moved it to the floor. He grimaced and pushed himself onto his back and released a pained sigh.

“You know that doesn’t really help me much seeing as it doesn’t affect you.”

Asher shrugged, “Eh. Guess that just means you have to trust me then.”

“Really now,” he croaked out, cracking his eyes open. Asher moved closer and squatted near the man’s heard the water still open.

“Yes, not be a good little boy and open up for me.”

Hannibal let out a huff of air that could have been a laugh. He had no other choice but to trust the man, at least he’d find a little relief before death. So he opened his mouth slightly waiting for the drink. Asher began to tip the bottle, and the thirst that Hannibal had tried so hard to keep at bay came rushing forward. His mouth felt dry as a desert in the summer. Just as he felt the first drop of water on his tongue, it was pulled back. Hannibal nearly cried as he lifted his head to follow the treasured liquid.

“Ahh not quite. I almost forgot.” Asher said quietly pulling the bottle away and setting it on the ground.

“You’ll be needing this first.” He pulled the sleeve back on his sweater and presented Hannibal with a limited view of his porcelain skin. He extended the nail on his right finger and slit his wrist. The wound opened easily and bled steadily, blood quickly pooled on the stone floor.

“What are you doing?” Hannibal asked quickly and tried to move away. The copper smell of the blood brought up old vampiric instincts that he long thought were gone.

“No time to be skittish around blood doll-face.”

“Uh-huh, yeah it is. Don’t come near me with it.”

Asher sighed as the little gash began knitting itself together again. He knew this would be a bitch and it was dangerous as it was coming here without Danica knowing and every second he wasted trying to convince him was a chance for him to be caught and they both end up dead.

He sighed. “Look this is more for your benefit than mine especially if you want to survive. Drake’s not here now and Kitten thinks she has free reign in his stead. For some reason, he wants you alive, and that’s pissing her off even more. So, it’d be best if you take what I’m offering you or you’ll be dead within next week.”

Hannibal was damn near startled speechless.

“Now, take the damn blood. The worst it’ll do to you is heal you and make it easier for you to take what I have for you.”

“Okay.” Hannibal said quietly and opened his mouth. Asher re-opened the same wound and held it over the man’s mouth.

With blurry eyes Hannibal watched the blood well up and gather in one central spot. Asher squeezed his wrist gently and the first drop fell into his mouth. He flinched and whimpered from the taste. It was everything he remembered about drinking and different also. The first few drops were like fire on his tongue and slowly spread through his whole body. Reaching up weakly he grabbed Asher by the wrist, and with strength that surprised them both he brought the bloody appendage to his mouth. With no shame, he dug his teeth in around the wound and gently massaged the skin, while his lips latched on to keep any of the blood from spilling away from him.

“Easy.” Asher exclaimed in surprise. Asher himself felt a bit melancholy watching Hannibal feed. It was nearly like old times when he watched the other man feed with passion. He allowed Hannibal to take a few more mouthfuls of blood before pulling away. Hannibal tried to hold on and Asher released a small chuckle. “That’s enough tiger.” Hannibal followed the retreating appendage before catching himself. The initial warmth of the blood turned into a fire and spread through his whole body. He felt his skin kit itself back together. The wheezing and pain he felt with each breath eased considerably and he had feeling, other than pain, come back to his numerously injured arm and shoulder.

Shifting his body slightly he stretched out his legs and moaned softly hearing joints crack and relief flood through himself. His headache left him and he could see clearly. He jumped when he felt hands come to his shoulder and help him sit up.

“You doing better now Buttercup?” Asher asked.

“Peachy” was the reply before he snatched up the open water bottle and downed its contents in four long pulls.

“Please, have some manners” the blond said, picking up the next bottle and handed it to the chained man. Hannibal grasped the bottle and this time took slow sips as Asher opened the bag he brought with him. The rustling filled the empty silence between sips, he pulled out two saran wrapped sandwiches. Unrolling one he pulled apart the wheat bread to reveal butter.

“This’ll be about the only thing you can eat for now” he spoke quietly and handed one half of the sandwich to the man. Taking the bread he sat the bottle down and pulled a small piece of the buttered bread apart and put it in his mouth. His chains rattled softly with his movements and the hunger in his belly abides slowly with each piece he ate and accompanied with water.

As he ate he watched Asher. The man always had pride in the way he dressed and took to great pains to keep himself in pristine condition. It begged the question now as to why he allowed himself to be sitting on a floor that’s covered in dirt and his blood. He took another bite of the bread and chewed slowly.

“What are you really doing here Asher?” he asked quietly.

Asher didn’t answer.

“Are you trying to fatten me up for the boss?” he questioned bitterly.

Asher chuckled and shook his head.

“It would take more than a few slices of buttered bread and water to fatten you up for him, plus you look too much like a twink.”

They both shared a laugh.. Hannibal would never admit it to the man, but he was the only vampire of the Talos that he liked. It was easy to get along with him as they both tended to have the same laid back nature and playing close to the chest. That’s why when he called the man’s name again, he knew he was going to get answers.

“Asher?”

Said man sighed and ran a hand across his face heavily. It was the most human gesture that Hannibal had ever seen the man present. Asher truly looked a man of his age at the moment.

“…Danica is losing her mind…” he breathed through his fingers.

Hannibal snorted and shook his head. “Really. Like we and the whole goddamn world didn’t know that already.”

“Heh, but more so than usual. Drake left the compound after we brought you and the little girl here. Danica took it upon herself to be placed in charge while he’s out. The ahem conditions you found yourself in currently was not just because you’re a smart-ass, but because Drake turned her down as High Consort or whatever. So, this is really a hissy fit on her part, and Drake demanded that I keep our prisoners in mint condition.”

Hannibal let the words roll around through his head, overall it made him curious. The brief series of events clashed heavily with what he thought he knew about Drake and what he wanted. He chose to leave off it for the moment.

“Tch, she never could take rejection well. So overall, Zoë and I are hostages?”

“Something to that extent.”

Hannibal arched a single eyebrow.

“Finish the water, I’ve been down here too long. I’ll come down when I can.”

Nodding, Hannibal quickly finished the allotted food and drink and gave him the trash. No other words had been exchanged between the two. Asher rose, trash in hand he gave a single nod to the chained man and walked to the hidden door. Repeating the exiting sequence, he waited for the door to slide open.

“Asher” he called.

He turned, just as the door opened.

“N-next time you come…can you tell me about Zoë?”

Both men stared at each other. Another reason he liked only Asher from this tribe, he didn’t prey on children.

Asher smirked. “Sure” then he turned and left the encamped space as quietly as he came in.

The tension he had in his body left when Asher did and slowly he found himself sinking back to the floor, his chains clanking with the movements. He got as comfortable as he could and slowly began to drift off to sleep. His las conscious thought was that Zoë was okay.

 

It surprised him when Asher came back exactly as he said and with news about Zoë, who only had a few cuts and bruises but was overall fine. Asher still never answered most of his questions on what was happening outside his cell, but he still proved to be good company. And he was able to create a sort of time schedule as to how long he had been down there. The beatings happened in intervals of three days and Asher would appear either the next day or the day after with food, water and a little bit of blood. But in those moments of waiting he wondered when Abby and Blade were coming. The days became weeks and the weeks to months. He hoped the two kept fighting at least for Zoë’s sake and not himself. Before he knew it about four months had passed. The beatings stopped two months in but Asher, more or less, stuck to his schedule and brought news on Zoë until one day he stopped.

Hannibal laid on the cold ground huddled into the smallest ball he could manage with his bulk to preserve his body heat. Asher hadn’t been by in weeks since his last feeding and he felt the hunger slowly eat away at his stomach and the thirst dry his throat out to rival a desert. On his side with legs close to his chest he curled one arm around them, he was lost in a haze of pain when the door opened. As always it was silent and he never knew that there was another person with him until there was pain. This time though, he felt a hand reach down and stoke the greasy strands of hair from his face. He barely recognized the gentle touch until it happened again and the heavy hand remained on the back of his hand.

“Xaaskeyga (My mate), they will pay for this.” was the faint rumble that reached his ears.

Hannibal unrolled himself slowly and painfully, groaning when his joints cracked and blood rushed. The echoing chains mimicked his movements and labored breathing and yet the hand remained on him. Hannibal focused on that heat that seeped through his cold skin as he lifted his head. The hand slipped down to his neck and gave a squeeze. Hannibal shivered and made an effort to look up and open his eyes. If he had full control of his normal responses, this moment would involve a lot of cursing and back biting. But being starved for nearly a week had left him weak as a babe, so the only response he could deliver was a sharp intake of breath that caused a coughing fit. Squatting right in front of was the Vampire King. The creature moved closer to Hannibal and tilted his head further back, Hannibal protested weakly.

“Shhh, I will make it better.” his baritone sounded. Hannibal could just make out his thin long sleeved shirt that hand a dee v-cut to the top of his stomach, in the provided sunlight he could see the man’s glyph house embedded in his chest. The necklaces he wore clinked lightly against each other as he slid one heavily muscled arm under his neck and pulled Hannibal’s limp body closer.

“Open.” he commanded after situation his head into the crook of his arm, his chains quieting after the movements and most of his body weight rested between muscled thighs.

Hannibal gazed at the creature with distant eyes and slowly opened his mouth with no protest. Keeping their eyes on each other, the Vampire King brought his wrist to his own mouth and bit it Hannibal could see the blood roll in rivulets down the side. A single drop landed on Hannibal’s chest and he gasped from just the heat alone. Pulling his wrist away, he moved Hannibal closer and brought the bleeding appendage to his open mouth.

“Drink.”

Immediately Hannibal felt warmth flow through his body. Starting from his throat, a trail of fire followed the blood and pooled in his belly, from there he felt it spread to his arms and legs and even down to his toes. He clamped his teeth and dug his tongue into the wound to get more of the nectar. The vampire growled a deep rumbling in his chest as he pulled Hannibal closer to him. The man wrapped his other arm around Hannibal and maneuvered them so that he was cradling the shackled man between his legs. After the positioning was done, he allowed the man to keep feeding and encouraged him with small growls of approval.

Hannibal moaned against the arm, he brought one hand up to grip the forearm and press it closer to his face, while the other he placed on the man’s hand on his stomach. He swallowed as much blood as possible, moaning when each gulp brought fire to his throat and this time down to his groin. He moaned deeply when the pleasure started. His body moved on its own; grinding erotically, he let go of the arm on his stomach and brought it behind the other man’s head digging his fingers into loose hair. Breathing deeply through his nose he tried to climb into the man’s lap. The Vampire King assisted him with his movement and hummed deeply flexing his fingers across Hannibal’s stomach and gave his own upward thrust. Hannibal ripped his mouth away and moaned with the next roll of the King’s hips. He pressed back against the thrust but let the entire motion move his body.

Resting his head on the vampires shoulder he breathed out, “What are you doing to me?” He didn’t and couldn’t fight against the hold him, nor did he want to.

“Claiming you.” he growled and sank his teeth into Hannibal’s neck.

Hannibal jerked against his body and gasped; the pain was sharp yet pleasurable. The Vampire King brought his wrist back to Hannibal’s mouth, forcing the bleeding arm back to Hannibal’s lisps. He latched onto it again and drank right away. He knew he should be resisting somehow, but he felt as though he shouldn’t. While he had given up on hope of being rescued, and resigned himself to death. Being in this creatures embrace as his last moments were more than welcomed.

It felt like hours had passed in their feeding off each other when it had only been mere minutes. The vampire dislodged his fangs gently from Hannibal’s neck gently and lapped at the blood to close the wounds and clean away the blood. Hannibal barely moved when the man gently removed his wrist and swallowed the last mouthful of blood.

The vampire thrust against him again and Hannibal arched sinfully with him causing the other to release a guttural moan in his ear. Hannibal felt the heat of the man course through his thin clothes along with the warm blood chasing the cold from his body. It caused him to get drowsy and he relaxed more against the man. His head dipped back on the man’s shoulder.

“Wada seexdo (Sleep mate)” was the last thing Hannibal heard before he drifted off into the first bought of peaceful sleep in months.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

The Vampire King gazed about the spacious office he was in. The dead man at his feet, this Leon Vance as the name plate said apparently, was the owner of said office but it mattered little to him. He took on the man’s appearance as a means of testing out the rest of his abilities after being asleep for so long. The disgraceful familiar did not even deserve to have his blood drained, filthy and so low from their previous glory. When he came upon the man, he smelled the stench of the female vampire that woke him. His attempt to present himself as an equal was laughable. He sneered at this…insolent creature and its arrogance while being so naïve to the god that was before him. Sitting at the desk, his bones rippled for an uncomfortable moment under his skin. The ridges moving like a wave under his skin as they assorted itself and settled more comfortably into this current identity. He eyed the papers on the man’s desk, shuffling around the documents that had been knocked loose in his confrontation. Pursing his lips in disappointment he turned his attention fully onto the paper, he focused on a few words that he could recognize immediately. His process was still slightly slow but the word ‘harvest’ had caught his attention. He lifted a sheet of paper ignoring the heading and focused on its content. He now recognized the word ‘blood’. A series of letters and numbers were on the sheet, it was nearly self-explanatory for him to figure out what was being reported but before he could further go into detail of the papers he heard approaching footsteps.

He could smell the oncoming approach of two humans and the half-breed that the disgraceful female vampire was talking about. He heard multiple groans and bodies hitting the floor. When he heard the loud crack of the door being forced open he gently placed the papers down and calming watched the hunters walk into the room. Slowly and calming he faced the door as the two humans and half-breed came in. The humans, a man and woman, walked forward and surrounded him, while the other all but growled at him. A soft smirk curled across his lips as he recognized kindred warriors and their stance of ‘surrounding the enemy’.

“Ca-can I help you?” he asked, his voice disguised as the dead familiars.

“You remember me mother-fucker? It’s time for payback.” the half-breed spoke.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the female warrior take a step closer to him and raise the gun higher at him. He raised his hand in supplication and attempted to make himself non-threatening.

“All right Vance, what the hell is going on?” she demanded.

He made himself appear nervous and took a glance at the woman taking his eyes off the half-breed, letting a half-formed smile flutter across his lips. But before he could answer the woman, the most tantalizing smell fluttered across his senses. Reigning in the need to focus on the source of it he kept his attention on the woman and the half-breed. Instinctively though, his hearing was already tuning into the human, the soft thumping of his heart began to resonate in him and he felt his body respond in kind to match the rhythm. When the human’s heart began to speed up, it forced him to turn his gaze to the man. The glance only allowed him to take in the panic look as he fumbled behind himself to grab at an extra gun. Dragging his eyes away, he looked down to what caught his attention. He nearly sighed with disappoint as he realized the wondrous smell was focusing on the familiar he killed, his nose quivered when the stench of fear began to taint him.

“Abby…Abby it’s him. Its DRAKE!” he shouted.

A deep rumbled went through his being hearing his name come from the man’s lips. Before the mystery man could draw his weapon, the half-breed fired at him and he easily dodged the projectile. It sailed passed him and shattered the window that was behind him, while the female finally drew her second weapon. As this occurred his body morphed between one second and the next, since they knew who he was there was no purpose to keep up the pretext of being the dead familiar. Standing upward as himself, he calmly regarded the weapons that was focused on him. Pushing the large oak desk at the half-breed, who easily jumped it and fired at him again. He moved completely out of the path of the bullet this time, and spun towards the deliciously smelling human. He grabbed him easily just as he fired, and took hold of his hand causing the shot to go off mark. He knocked the weapon away with one hand and with the other he grabbed the same arm and twisted it so it was held captive behind the humans back. He held the man close and could not help breathing in his scent.

To keep himself from being lost in the tantalizing musk of masculinity and sweat he focused his eyes on the others that was still present. He knew his irises took on their cat-like almond shape, but he could not be bother to hide the change. Wrapping his other arm around the human’s chest he kept him pressed close as he moved them both to the shattered window, he allowed himself another deep inhale. The human’s heart was frantic in his ear acting as a siren call to him, just knowing that his blood was rushing throughout his body. He lost himself to instinct and scented him in the most primal way. A subtle groan eased from his throat and his gums ache to take a single taste of the male. Forcing himself to refocus he moved the man so that his tempting neck was not so close to his mouth and took small un-needed breathes through his mouth. Though it did not assist him in keeping focus as he could now taste the subtlety of his chemical make-up.

“So,” he began, forcing himself to talk. The human struggle in his hold but he adjusted for each movement bringing him closer than before, yet he kept his grasp firm. “you’re the hunter they all fear. I had an inclination that you were just a mere figment of thought that lesser vampires conjured to make up for what they lack.” The pressure in his gums grew to much and his fangs dropped like a mere fledging, the scent of the man in his arms finally invaded his senses to the point that simple control was beginning to evade him. So close to the source he could not help but to breath him in. The reactions his body was undergoing had awoken something he thought long dead. Of its own accord he thrusted against the squirming man’s behind and he knew it was felt which prompted the man to jerk much more violently against him.

“Just shoot him.” he forced out, bring up one hand to grab Drake’s forearm.

“Go ahead Blade” he taunted, remembering finally the half-breed name.

He broke the hold on his arm easily and grabbed at one of the weapons that had been strapped to his thigh. He knew from the feel and smell of the metal that it was pure silver. He showed no reaction to touching metal, and from the others lack of surprise it was safe to say they knew it did not affect him. Drake was impressed that the humans had done some type of investigation about him, and were still taking an effort to kill him.

“Go ahead Blade. Show me what you are made of.”

Keeping his eyes focused on Blade, he twirled the pointed weapon between his fingers and plunged it deep into the man’s shoulder. Drake was impressed that the man did not scream and only grunted from the pain. But he could not would not stop himself from finally inhaling the scent of blood, with the last of his control he reframed from pulling the metal out and lapping at the blood. He felt a slight twinge of guilt for harming the succulent creature, but he could not take the chances with his body still being weak and sluggish from centuries of sleep. He pushed the man away gently but with enough force that he was able to still catch himself and not jostle the wound so much to make it dire, as he made his escape through the window. The female fired after him and he knew Blade was right behind him in pursuit. It was quite easy to lose the man in the traffic and crowds, but he desired to talk to the man, vampire to vampire. So he slowed his speed and allowed himself to be seen and ultimately lead him to a rooftop. Along the way he picked up a child, as a means of preventing the man from outright attacking him. Drake stood on a ledge and Blade was opposite him in all his fearsome brooding.

The child weighed nothing as it was rested comfortable on his forearm, and remained silent for the time being. Moving his arm, Drake brought the child to be across his chest and began to gently stroke at his back while both men stood in silence. He could see the blood thirst lurking in Blade’s eyes and his every movement. His body was strife with tension and reacted constantly to the smallest of things. He briefly wondered how long it had been since the man had fed or if he ever did.

“Tell me Blade, how long do you think you can resist?” he asked.

Blade growled, and took a step to him.

It was a testament of how far Blade was gone that his control was so fragile.  “Hmm, you are further along that I had expected.” He turned from the man and looked down at the child. He did not so much as whimper from being in his arms. Such innocence he thought to himself. Not even aware of the two dangerous creatures in proximity to him. He chucked at the ignorance of humanity, not even aware of the war that wages over them.

“Why’d they wake you?” Blade demanded.

“Do you see these…humans. They live their lives so mundanely, never aware of the actual dangers around them.”

He turned a step and faced the ledge more, he looked down at the people there as they hustled to get from one location to the next. He heard Blade move by the whisper of his coat.

“Do you think they know anything about honor or dying by the sword? Do they know anything about being immortal, like you and I?” he asked more so to himself.

“I must have heard plenty jokers spitten’ the same lines, clamming to be immortal or gods and they’ve all tasted the end of my sword.” Blade growled.

“That may be” he responded.

“They think they can walk in the daylight through you.” Blade said, but it was more of a statement than a question. It was obvious he didn’t think it was even remotely possible. Drake smirked to himself at the half-breeds naivete. He had no idea the true extent of his abilities.

“Immortality will only come to those who are deemed fit.” he replied, speaking of a future where he would chose who would receive his gift. “But sadly the gift has been wasted…squandered. And all that is left are these disease riddled things. Even you would be considered an abomination with the way you handle your need for blood.”

Drake grew tired of speaking with Blade. He had awoken to a world that disgusted him. He needed to reorder his ranks and dispose of a sickly half-breed filled with murder and what could be hemorrhaging blood lust if it was not seen too soon. He drew his eyes from the crowd and briefly looked over the child who had now closed their eyes. Dragging his eyes away, he regarded Blade and could see the tremors as they became more prominent as he valiantly tried to suppress them. With a look of disgust to Blade he tore his eyes away again.

“Tell me Daywalker, how long do you think you will have before that serum of yours is no longer enough to keep your instincts at bay?” Drake asked scenting out the synthetic and medicinal mixture that radiated from Blades pores.

The look of pure shock brought some measure of delight to Drake.

“Ah yes I know all about that.” He casually raised his hand lightly and dabbed at his own nose indicating how he knew.

There was a moment of tense seconds and Blade exploded into movement and attempted to draw his weapon. Reacting quickly he tossed the child to the man and disappearing over the ledge. He landed lightly in the crowd and the people barely registered his presences. He heard Blade catch the child and attempted to comfort them. With a smirk he turned and walked down the busy street, further away from the pitiful creature Blade. He gazed about at the people of the city, they were so unaware of the danger that stood so close to them so self absorbed  in their technology. Drakes ached with distaste and felt an unbearable need to get rid of these worthless things. But that ache also brought his thoughts to the beautiful creature he scented before his untimely exit. He could still smell the hint of blood that permeated his nose. He knew something was different about him. With resignation he realized he had needed to talk to Danica for more information about him, followed by the need to speak to his personal man about his investments if he was still around.

He made his way back to the Talos building and immediately sought out Danica. He did not need to search far for her, for the minute he walked into what was deemed her area of the compound she had emerged. As always she looked sickly to him, under fed and crazy. She presented herself as an eager puppy, he had no time for puppies.

“My Lord. How did everything go? Is Blade dead?” she asked not even trying to contain her glee.

He held back the growl and the desperate need to kill this thing before him, this was only because they had resurrected him and it would show poor hospitality if he killed her.

“Do not concern yourself with that?” he walked around the room taking in the decor. The building had bare cream and grey colored walls. There were pipes above and stair cases that seemed to lead everywhere and no-where. Drake stood by a long conference table made of glass and pipes. Danica saw fit to sit herself at the head of the able, to her left was Asher once again dressed impeccably and their thug Jarko sat on the other side of the table. As he approached all three vampires stood and he made a motion for them to sit as he walked to the table.

“Tell me, what plans did you have with the familiar Vance? You were all very silence of his role when you spoke of him to me.” he spoke.

The vampires looked at each other.

“Now” he commanded.

Asher spoke first.

“We use him as the cover man for our Harvest House. We have them presented as clinical trials for drug-users in therapy or as production fronts.”

“Harvest House?” he spoke softly. He recalled that he read those words in the familiars office. Asher continues at the unspoken question.

“We pick people off the streets, ones that no one will miss and they are connected to a device that keeps their minds inactive but their bodies alive. So a coma if you will, as we drain the blood from their bodies and –“

“Enough” Drake growled cutting him off. The fury he felt was palpable.

“Is this what the vampire race has come to? You do not even hunt them properly. The adrenaline, the fear, the pleasure. Pathetic” he spat out, the disgust filling his words as he spoke.

“And that is why you awoken me to this time. To kill Blade for you where you are all too weak to do so. By rights I should lead that rabid half-breed here to slaughter you all.“ He turned his gaze to Danica.

“You call yourself a leader of the Talos Clan, but I have yet to see any leadership only a spoiled child who throws a tantrum when they do not get their way. I can see the taint in all of you. You rely too much on your status as a vampire and act no more than a rabid animal searching for its next meal. While the humans adapt and train in their methods in killing you.”

Asher’s eyes dropped in shame. He believed everything that Drake had said. They had grown complacent. But it was hard to hold on to his beliefs when dealing with Danica and Jarko.

Drake could see the conviction in Asher, but the others stated at him defiantly as if he had done them wrong. He could see their hatred at being deemed weak. That was good. Maybe they could prove that there would be a start of redemption for them. 

A heavy silence filled the room before he spoke again.

“Do you know where the hunters reside who oppose you?”

“Yes. They’re located at a barge at the marina.” Asher replied.

“Then why have you not taken care of them?”

“We don’t have the means to take on such a group.” Danica spoke this time.

Drake glared at her. The fury of their insolence now morphed into rage. These pathetic vampires could not take out a simple group that was only three. A single well trained vampire could take out ten hunters on his own.

“Where?” he bit out. The urge to kill was strong. His gums ached and he could feel his original form becoming restless from being concealed for so long.

“North-east from here.” Asher whispered, a healthy dose of fear coloring his words.

“When I return, there will be changes. Fall in line or you die. No matter who you are. I will bring glory to the vampires again.”

Danica perked up some, believing she knew what those changes would be and shared a look with Jarko. He rendered himself invisible to their eyes and let them believe that he had left the room.

“Your pathetic.” Danica stated suddenly turning to Asher. “Just pray your still here when everything changes brother dear.” she said sweetly, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek in a mockery of affection. She rose from the table and walked away leaving the room, Jarko followed adding nothing to the conversation. Asher didn’t let what she said bother him. It was nothing that he hadn’t heard before from her over the centuries.

Drake could not quite conclude to either congratulate Asher in his silence to his sister or be disappointed by that silence. That kiss she gave him might as well had been the same kiss Judas gave to Jesus according to what the Hebrews believed. He could see some fight left in Asher, by his own standards he was but a child who needed guidance. As for his concerns about Danica and her pet, the faster he could be rid of those two imbeciles the better his plans will turn out for the future. He would have no place in the new regime he was going to create, but Asher had promise.

“Do not be discouraged by her words,” he said making himself by seen by Asher. “Her time will be coming soon,”

Asher’s lips barely twitched before it was set back into a frown line. He understood Drakes implication all too well, and hoped Danica was prepared to be knocked off her pedestal soon.

‘Hope indeed for this one.’ Drake thought to himself before rendering himself from Asher’s awareness and left, leaving the blond alone in his thoughts.

 

Based on Asher’s vague directions Drake had found the marina and the barges. Standing on top of one of the scaffolds he turned his gaze to the night sky. It was different from the skies of Sumeria. Those nights were always clear, he would be able to see the stars for miles and the air was so fresh even for being in a desert. Here under this generations sky he was lucky to make out a few of the obvious constellations. His home was not nearly as noisy as these nights were. The street cars and electricity that just positively hummed non-stop. The constant noise did not bother him, he could tune it out at will, but the lack of a clear sky put him at ill ease. When he was done with his work, with these so-called vampires he was going to retire to a large expansion with a clear view of the night sky.

Feeling that he brooded long enough of his lost past, he drew deep breaths of muggy air and ignored the heavy smells of sea air and salt. He filtered out the scents of oils, dirt’s, grime, and filth of rodents until there left with the smell of humans. The same process was delivered with the sounds of the marina. Machines and shouts fading into nothing. The roaring of the sea faded to that of a whimper leaving only heartbeats. With drawing another breath, he refined his eliminations as his eyes fluttered close. He huffed faintly when he picked up the scent of blood, he recognized it as that of the man from earlier. With his eyes still closed he walked along the rebar with ease till he stood at the edge of structure. The wind picked up causing his jacket to flutter about him and disrupt the scent he followed slightly. Once the air had settled, he picked up the scent again along with the mysterious woman who he just met earlier in the day along with Blade’s pungent yet subtle scent permeating the air. He opened his eyes and before him was a large dark blue almost black barge. He picked up the added scents of Blade and the female warrior that seemed its strongest, indicated they had both just left the premises. Under there he recognized four more scents all as human. Two males and two females, one of them a child.

He morphed himself into an old man that was said to be a partner of Blades. His hair grew longer and took on grey and blond overtones. He lost his muscle depth and took on a slender body with broad shoulders and wiry muscles. The transformation happened so seamlessly, from one step to the next. This shift happed much more smoothly then when he had presented himself as the familiar Vance. Stepping off the edge he landed light on his feet and right near the entrance. Walking up the ramp he was greeted with a solid metal door that had no visible hinges and or seams, he only knew he was in the right place due to the severity of his age and his ability to assess the most subtle human scents. He smirked, impressed with the human’s ingenuity of safety. Drake took a quick and thorough look at the metal presented before him, in the corner he took note of the lens that was close to his height. There was near silent whirl and slight click before a red light appeared and scanned over his eye. The machine released a small beep and a display lit up.

“Whistler, Abraham” a female voice sounded. “Level 4 clearance.”

“Access granted, welcome to the Honey Comb Hive.” The female spoke again.

A breath of a hiss filled the air and the door indented slightly before sliding open. Faint but seemingly loud music assaulted his ears as he ventured into the vessel. He followed the sound easily going down the black armored halls and down a single flight of stairs. He paused for only a split second and turned left. As he continued down, the noise rose predictably higher along with a cadence of what he believed to be music and granted him access to the two of the three male humans he knew to be inside.

The door lead to a walkway, stepping out only slightly he remained in the dim lights of the opening. The catwalk went down about the space in a large rectangle. Two sets of stairs were on either side and went down to the room where two men were. The men were on a hardwood floor. One had a pasty somewhat sickly pallor, that had no doubt not been out in the sun a lot along with being obnoxiously round, while the other had a dark almost chocolate complexion. The sight of this man made him crave blood mixed in with chocolate. He could almost taste the creamy smoothness of chocolate along with thickness of blood that held a rich mixture of salt and metal, which presented a cornucopia of flavors to dance in his mouth. Just the thought of the decadent treat made him salivate and his canines start to lengthen. Watching the man partake in athleticism certainly added to the appeal. Both humans were playing with a ball and battled against each other. The dark bald man the ball above his head and shot it over the other human. He gave a whoop of joy when the ball made it into to the hoop at the end of the court. The plump man moved to the end of the court and fetched the ball taking it back to the other. As they continued to play, Drake only observed them more. The short man groaned as he had to run off to capture the ball.

“Hey Dex! Man, that’s cheating! Illegal block.” he said with petulance.

“C’mon Hedges. I thought you said you could keep up with me.” Hex said with a smile and a laugh. Hedges complained good naturally and tossed the ball back. Drake was a bit disappointed that the two men had yet to notice he was there as they continued to play.

“Really!” Hedges exclaimed, Dex laughed and opened his mouth to speak when he looked up and happened to see Drake’s partially hidden face.

“SHIT!” he hissed and Hedges turned quickly to look behind himself. He gasped in horror and dropped the ball. Before the dark man could draw his weapon, Drake moved and easily vaulted the railing to land between Dex and Hedges. Grabbing the dark-skinned man by the neck he yanked it back and gave him a savage bite, roughly pulling his own head back and ripping the neck open. He swallowed the blood that filled his mouth and let the man’s body fall uselessly to the floor. He turned to face Hedges, who was frozen in fear. His eyes wide, pupils blown and the sweet sound of his heart pounding furiously was music to Drakes ears. Drake took a deep slow breath letting the man’s fear soak into him. Still holding the visage of Whistler, he advanced on him, a smirk curling across his lips. The poor man had only just opened his mouth to scream, when Drake brought a hand slashed it across his neck. He gasped and immediately grabbed it, the fear left his eyes and shock covered them instead. He took a staggering breath, his eyes locked on Drakes. In the next stuttering breath, blood oozed between his fingers and ran in rivulets down his hand. A gurgling groan escaped his lips and a small trail of blood slipped between his lips. With the same hand, Drake reached out and swiped his finger across the blood that ran between Hedges fingers. Keeping his eyes locked on the man he brought the digit to his mouth for a taste and hummed appreciatively as Hedges body sunk to the floor. His had falling away and allowing the blood to flow freely, mixing in with the blood of Dex on the floor.

Ignoring the mess at his feet now, he walked calmly walked into the direction of the door that was in front of him. He inhaled the air to find where the other humans were located. The flowery scent of woman and the pureness of the child were to his left, and the musky mouthwatering smell of the man was to his right. A rumbling purr made its way through his body at the smell of the man, along with the possibly of him being his mate. Taking both body and blood from the man and then transforming him into something beautiful and deadly. Drake had to exert control and not go back to his natural form. He left the dead men and followed the smell of his mate deeper into the bowels of the ship. The path he was on was bathed in low light and made it easier for him to remain unseen. He came to a stop at a single door at the end of the hall. Voices and music reached his ears and a blue-white light filled the room. He paused for a moment to bask in the man’s scent, a smile fluttered across his lips a bit of his fangs slipping out. He finally found him.

Stepping into the room, he saw the source of the voices. A picture box was situated in the corner, the volume on low. Just above the noise of the T.V. was a steady light beeping form the other side of the room. He turned towards the sound and saw his mate. He was propped up on a mattress, leaning against pillows with a cream-colored blanket tucked around him. Bandages had been placed over his right shoulder where he had stabbed him earlier. Some guilt had darted through him seeing the wound, but without it he would not have received the confirmation of finding his other half. Though covered he could take in the musky copper undertones of the blood and a faint trace of medicine. He approached the bed slowly and stood off only by a few feet.

Watching the man, he took in his features. The strong build that was barely hidden with the blankets, his jaw was square and lean, hair cut short but still log enough to get a good handful of if needed. Different images assaulted his mind at the thought of grabbing the chestnut and chocolate colored locks and having his full supple lips wrapped around his cock. He growled deep in his chest at the prospect of experiencing his mates mouth on him and arousal flooded through his body. His fingers twitched minutely, imagining those strands clenched in his hands. He watched as his mates’ features lost its relaxed pose of sleep, a smirk curling along his lips knowing this was because of his presence. The warrior in him being aware that there was a dangerous predator nearby. Drake watched as the man’s skin broke out in goose-pimples and the hairs beginning to stand up. His eyes snapped open into wakefulness and settled on the T.V. first, the only noise in the room before searching out the rest of the room and landing on him. There was a pause as he seemed to be taking in the sight before him.

“Dude, you’re dead.” he stated simply.

He smiled realizing why the other two men were so surprised to see him. He deliberately shifted the color of his eyes to its natural golden/red hue and reached out placing his hand over his mates’ mouth and nose. The man struggled when he realized who had him. The beeping next to him sped up to match the man’s heart. He brought his hands up weakly and tried to fight him, his mate was weak compared to his strength, but he watched avidly as the man fought. He felt more excitement course through his body, when he would turn his mate into a beautiful deathly creature. He struggled for a few more seconds, before his grip became derelict and his eyes fluttered closed from lack of oxygen. Easing his grip, he pulled his hand back and let the rips of his fingers brush the man’s lips gently. The machine quieted near him to match the unconscious man’s heart rhythm. He pulled the thread that was attached to the man’s finger and head when the machine gave a shrill beep. He turned and stared at the contraction briefly, he found a large red button and pressed it assuming it would silence the noise. The room fell into blissful silence except for the sound coming from the T.V., but that hardly bothered him. Turning back to his mate he had the temptation to lift the blanket that covered him. His fingers twitched slightly, but he steadied his impulse and gathered the man up into his arms making sure to keep him covered.

Leaving the room, he retraced his steps and came across the female scent again. Using his preternatural speed, he was at the opening of the barge again. He moved to the door and morphed his eyes back to the old man’s again and let the machine scan the orb. The machine hummed quietly and beeped when it had finished, changing the light from red to blue. The door slid open, adjusting the unconscious man in his arms he walked down the small hall and was greeted with the night time air. As he stepped out Drake held his mate close to his chest and inhaled his warm scent. At the end of the railing a familiar came into view who had been leaning against a black car. The man was dressed completely in black with his hair slicked back. His hand clasped behind his back. Drake stopped in front of the man and raised a single eyebrow in question.

“Asher said I would be of some assistance to you, if needed.”

Without answering he motioned towards the car door with his head. The familiar moved with ease and opened the door then took a step back knowing the vampire would want to put the unconscious hunter in the car himself. Drake gave a grunt of approval and moved forward to put the man in the back seat carefully.

“I will return shortly.” He stated, “Wait here and keep watch.” Drake turned away from the familiar and went back into the barge. Still under the guise of the dean man, Drake went back inside. He found his way easily to the lower levels. He knew rationally he had no real reason to go back inside. He had retrieved his mate, successfully killed any who would be an opposition, but there was this lingering sensation that he was forgetting seething. While in his thinking, he registered the faint tapping of heals and a soft whistling in the air. He paused and listened at the female got closer. He didn’t speak, only watched. He took in her tense face hidden by darken lenses and shallow breathing. In one hand, she had obtained a gun the other held her cane. Her rapidly beating heart, the shake of her hand, and the stench of fear let him know she found the bodies and realized his mate was missing.

She pointed the weapon at him briefly before turning away. He knew she was blind. He saw many like her before, but she was clearly more capable than any he had seen before. She would make a beautiful addition to the vampire race. He growled lowly and alerted her of his presence. The woman spun quickly and fired at him. He grunted at the sudden impact of pain, more of a pinch was what he felt. He was caught off guard by her swiftness, she was more sure in her firing than the other female hunter he had stumbled across earlier in the day. His body worked quickly to push the silver bullet out. It made a soft plunk onto the floor now tacky with blood. She prepared to fire again, but he shot his hand out quickly and wrapped it around the weapon and her hand. Using just his natural strength he jerked the woman to him. She screamed and brought up her other hand holding her walking cane. She took a wild swing at him with it, but he easily swiped it out of the air. The instrument soared through the air with a slight whistling sound before landing with a thud against the far room. He grabbed her by the back of her clothing and it pulled it aside to expose her cream-colored skin that was soon flushing red as she struggled against him. He grabbed a handful of hair and puller her heads back, quick as ever he dove in and bit savagely into her. He made the draining quick, leaving her just on the brink of death. The virus was in her system now, but to ensure she would change he bit into his wrist and forced some mouthfuls of blood into her. Once finished he placed a kiss on her lips.

Drake allowed his body to slip back into his natural form and swung the woman up into his arms. From the blood he took, he had access to the woman’s memories and knew he name to be Stephany Somerfield and that she had a daughter named Zoë. Stephany, though blind, was a doctor who specialized in disease and mutations. Following Stephany’s memories, he took her lower into the bowels of the ship along the way he located rope. He strung her up and left a message for Blade and the human hunter to find.

As he was leaving, he heard the faintest whimpers of a child filtered through the ship. Sucking the blood from his fingers he moved silently down the halls. The memories of Stephany filtered through his mind and the memory of her daughter came to him. He paused in his walking to filtered through them. Focusing on…Zoë…he saw her birth and the subsequent years that followed. He discovered the name of his mate, Hannibal, and the involvement he had with Zoë and Stephany. Seeing the love he had for the two people solidified his decision to turn her and to now look for the child. He followed Stephany’s step to the panel where the girl hid. As he removed the metal grate the child screamed and moved away from him. Her fear was heavy and cloying. She moved just out of his reach. He smiled to himself seeing another opportunity to stretch his abilities. Focusing on his hand he commanded them to grow. He felt the bones of his fingers and skin stretching and the popping of joints as they dislocated and relocated. A loud pop sounded from his elbow. He was quite grateful that hand had killed everyone already. The child, was much too loud and would have brought the would-be hunter down on him. With a bit of a stretch he could grab her. She kicked and hit at him trying to get away. Drake laughed wholeheartedly as he pulled the squirming child who was no covered in dust out. He took in her long curly brown hair and the jeans and t-shirt she wore,

“Let me go!” she shouted.

“I think not little one” he responded.

“What did you do to my mommy?!” she asked still attempting to hit him.

“You have fire in you.” He spoke man-handling the child to sit on one of the near-by counters.

“Did you kill her?” she demanded.

Drake looked down into the child’s dark brown eyes; fascinated by her sudden change of fear to fierce proception of her mother.

“No. I made her better.” He said.

“Like you?”

“Almost.” he replied with a smirk.

From the child’s retorts, he could see a little of his mate in her from Stephany’s memories.

“Would you come with me?’

“Why?”

“I can off you better.”

“What about my mommies?’

“She will be fine. What I am doing to her will make her better.”

Zoë looked at him incredulously. He did not even know a child could look so cynical at him.

“She will even be able to see you.” he spoke after a moment. Zoë was quiet, as she watched him. He could see her weighing the options.

“Okay.” she finally spoke.

There was a moment of silence between them and Zoë jumped from the counter.

“What about everyone else?” she asked considering his colored eyes.

“Sleep” he commanded looking back at the child.

He caught her body easily and lifted her. He walked back to Sommerfield’s hanging body.

“Come find me” he spoke softly placing a gentle kiss on her cheek, before turning away with her child held close to his body.

“Take me back to the compound” he spoke to the familiar when he made it back to the car. Placing the young girl into the back seat, he laid her gently next to his mate. He moved to the front seat and adjusted the mirror to keep them in his sights as he was driven back to the Talos property.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be using different languages in this bad boy, but I put the English in bold, so just follow that.

Dawn had just approached the Talos building when he arrived back with his charges. Drake told the vampire that accompanied him to take hold of the child while gathered his potential mate in his arms. No words were spoken between the two men, as they walked down he semi-deserted halls of the compound. The vampire led him to an empty room where he had safely deposited both bodies.

"No one goes in, and they do not come out. Do you understand?" Drake commanded to the man.

The man in turn nodded to the Vampire King and took up a crossed arm position in front of the door. Drake gave the man a slight inclination of his head and turned away, sweeping down the halls on quiet steps. He took himself back to the private rooms that Danica had provided for him and took it upon himself to finish familiarizing himself with the modern times. The task in hand took him the better part of the day and along the way he came across information that would greatly help him reestablish himself as the King of his people without needing to play polite with the Talos Clan for much longer.

Pressing a small button on the intercom phone next to him he alerted the familiar on the other end that he would require travel to go by plane. From his research he had discovered the location of his personal companion who he had put in charge of his financiers and holdings before he went under. He read that his Watcher had took on the council of twelve and killed their perspective leaders to summon La Magra. There was much speculation as to if he was able to pull it off and others believed he was simply crazy and was put down like a rabid dog along with the rest of his house.

His lips curled in disgust at the thought of Blade of all people was able to best Watcher in battle. Especially after he had seen the man losing himself piece by piece to the thirst he fights so passionately. The only conclusion he could readily come to is that Blade fought one the Watchers doppelgängers. The man had always had a few of them running about for him committing odd tasks. Shutting down the terminal where he worked, he exited the room and was immediately flanked by two familiars who was proving themselves to be very useful in his endeavor’s lately.  They followed him out of the building where a black sports car awaited him. Without asking, one of the familiar stepped forward to open the door and allowed the Vampire King to step inside the car without breaking stride. He gave a slip of paper to the one holding the door, on it had their destination. 

In no time at all, he found himself in Los Angeles. The black sedan pulled to a stop in front of an abandoned building of Watchers last known location. The driver exited and came around the car to open his door. The sunlight was high and warm on his skin as he stepped out. He straightened out the lapels of his jacket and set his gaze among the masses. He caught the scent of familiars in the vicinity underneath the stench of the city’s pollution. He turned to the sentient familiar.

"Keep the car ready for a moment’s notice and do not answer any calls unless they are from me." he spoke, the 'or else' hung in the air.

"Yes, Milord" the familiar spoke with a slight bow of the head.

Drake turned away from the man and walked around the car. He crossed the street and avoided traffic easily, the cars passing where he moved just seconds after he vacated the spot. He came to a stop in front of an empty penthouse. Slabs of wood were put up over the many windows that lined the street. Yellow caution tape plastered in an 'x' was over the front double doors and s sigh off to the side had the words 'Construction & Remodeling Coming Soon'. He ignored the sign and pulled the plastic form the doors. Placing his palm flat on the surface, he pressed putting force in the motion until he heard metal breaking did he stop. Removing his hand, he let the door swing open under its own weight. The building was dark, letting in little to no light but it was no problem for his sight. He made his way inside avoiding what would have been the front desk. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed there was a shining surface that reflected in the low light. Turning he strolled to the mounted reflection on the wall next to what appeared to be the entrance to the elevators. When he was close enough, the faint marking of words under lays of dirt. Lifting a gloved hand, he reached forward and swiped away the filth revealing a list of names and corresponding room numbers. Directory was listed at the top. The names were listed alphabetically, and he found Watchers name easily, he was listed to the found on the top floor: penthouse suite.

"Hmm. Still living in luxury after all these years." he spoke to himself softly.

On silent footsteps he walked towards the elevator leaving barely-there footsteps in the dirt. There were six elevators, three on either side of the walkway. A place that should have showed having no power, had a single elevator that displayed dents along the crease of its doors that showed it had once been forced open. A dull yellow light spilled from the small opening and painted the floor in a dirty sunrise.

Drake arched a single eyebrow and moved to the double doors. He pressed the lit elevator arrow that pointed upwards. The loud whirring of gears starting and moving along with pulling doin work echoed loudly in the area. The vibrations of the elevator could be felt thru the floor as the door rocked slightly to open and stopped half-way. Pursing his lips at the development, Drake walked up and gripped the open doors of the elevator and forced them apart to fit his wide girth. Stepping inside the small box, he looked around with distaste at the grime and clapped his hands against each other to displace the dirt. He brought his eyes to the panel of buttons that displayed in a single row. Each of the buttons where covered with dirt except for one. It was prevalent that Watcher still resided inside the building, the button that showed regular use was for the Penthouse Suite. As the doors eased closed on its own, he pressed for the top floor. With a tell-tale jerk and rattle of the box it moved and began it ascend to the top floor.

It took the same amount of effort to get out as it did in and Drake found himself greeted with dozens of candles. They were strategically placed around the room to obtain optimal lighting of the open room. A wave of nostalgia rushed over Drake, the warmth that had flooded the room reminded him of the days of Samaria and its comforting heat. Chandeliers filled with candles hung from various places in the walkway alone, each one with three tiers of light. An unlit candelabra sat on a plain white dresser to his left, but with the poor lighting it was bathed in pale yellow connotations. He otherwise ignored it and began to walk down the corridor presented to him. the hallway opened to a large spacious living room and dining room area. To the left were a bundle of large white leather chairs, love seats, and chassis all carrying the same yellow hue. A large glass table sat in the center of the living room and on it sat a small chemistry setup along with an expensive microscope placed next to the chemicals that were all proudly on display. Drake took a small step towards the set up and took in the full layout of the room. To his right where the dining room lay, a solid oak table was proudly in view many on its chairs missing save one. Drake could only assume that they had been appropriated as fire wood at one point, but there were various experiments in different stages along the table top. Drake chuckled to himself recalling the small time he stayed with Watcher and their many houses all reflected the current view in front of him. Watcher had always been a scholar and a scientist foremost, it was a lovely sight to be granted to such a mess and knowing the same brilliant man existed.

Drake knew there had to be an actual source of electricity, as much of an ambiance the candle light created, he knew Watcher would need the use of modern instruments for his more delicate work. He continued to move forward and exited the living room to come upon another doorway, this had a long hall attached with blank walls. Every few feet a single candle lined the wall to provide soft light. The rhythmic thumping and additional melodious tones finally registered to his mind, along with the soft movements.

"Watcher!" Drake had called and knocked softly on the door.

Movement beyond the door stop immediately, as the music continued. Something fell over in a mighty crash followed by cursing. Light footsteps approached the door and a series of locks were undone. The door opened slowly letting light spill out into the room. Drake was greeted with a lean yet tired face, though his icy grey eyes were wide and alert. There were prominent bags under his eyes that showed signs he had not eaten recently. His hair hung limp around his face and his clothes had obviously seen better days. Surprise lit the man’s face up when he finally realized who stood before him.

"Well, I'll be damned." he stated and gave a slight bow to the man. "Who woke you? I know it's not the right time." Watcher replied.

"You are correct. But it has been brought to my attention that my children have strayed grievously, and it is time to punish them and restore my legacy."

Watcher moved to lean against the doorway blocking the entrance, and both men watched each other silently.

"The Talos Clan woke me." Drake finally spoke.

"What?!" the man exclaimed in rage. "Why would those stupid children do that?!"

"The same reason you went after La Magra."

"That wasn't me!" he growled out pointing at himself. He pushed off the door jam and stood chest to chest with the Vampire King.

"Let's take this to the living room." he said after taking a moment to calm down. "Don't hit anything." He added as an afterthought and moved to walk past the man.

Drake chuckled and turned to follow the man back into the living room. "Do not worry, I remember how much work you put into your loving creations." he spoke, enjoying the easy banter they always shared with each other. After the agonizing months he had to put up with under the Talos regime, he found himself coveting this time with Watcher, but he knew he could not spend his time remembering in the past. He had much work to be done. Watcher pointed out the leather chairs he had passed earlier and sat himself on the snap space available on the table in front of him.

"When I last saw you, I believed you had everything in hand.” Drake began.

“There was a slight complication in the plan.”

Drake arched a single dark brow for the man to continue. “We stuck together for a few decades before my counterpart believed he could do better on his own and we split up some time during the late sixties.”

“Tell me what has happened since my time of sleep” Drake commanded.

“My Liege. There’s not much interest to tell.” Watcher stated falling back into formal speak.

“Oh, but there is. A Daywalker had been created, a powerful one at that who was not properly trained in the ways of vampirism and is on his way to completely losing himself in blood lust. And as I have just observed there is no way to defeat him if it happens unless by my hand or his own. So, currently the precipice of both species lies with one mans conscious and will and my ability to bring my people back from the brink of extinction.”

A heavy silence fell upon both men. Drake did not raise his voice, there was no need too, the intensity and seriousness of their future was deeply felt.

“I…may have known what he was up to.” Watcher spoke quietly.

“Continue.”

“During the fifties and sixties there was a flux in the population of people being born with mutations that were never seen before. Cases of people being able to ready minds, controlling weather and other things that were kept heavily under wraps and observation. He and I both scientist at heart as you know.” He gestured lazily about the room and chuckled softly. “But he found a way to get involved in the research and invoke his own study. I never figured exactly what he wanted to accomplish with the government for years, then suddenly with the Council. I didn’t even really begin to put the piece together until the Daywalker came looking for us. I personally avoided the man and left all matters of him to my counterpart. I was finally let in on his plot when he showed me old notes we had that weren’t as lost as I thought. But before all that came about around eighteen eighty-three I went down to the desert to look for the Book of Erebus.”

“The Vampire Bible written by La Magra my mother” He said agreeing.

He cleared his throat hard and continued, “There was no written record of you being in the book, but it was a guideline about the other houses and what they entailed. It was also a record of what happened during the early rulings.”

“I wrote a few of the earlier books.”

A small smile broke out on Watchers face. “I know. I was able to read some of them.”

_Though he was dead and had been for twenty-two years, he learned a few tricks over the time to fool humans of his status. With this change of becoming a vampire he saw that the sunlight did not have such an adverse effect on him as he was led to believe. Deacan believed that it was due to him injecting the blood and not being bitten. Being out in the sunlight only had his eyes sensitive to the light that he needed to wear extremely tinted lenses to see and his skin when in contact with the rays broke out into a horrible rash. So, wearing long clothing all time kept him safe, including wide brimmed hats. Others would always look at him strangely when he began to adorn what looked was woman’s hats, but it kept him protected and it helped that people saw him as a brilliant yet eccentric scientist._

_But the reasons he found himself in the Syrian desert, covered head to toe with clothe that worked to keep heat out, was an ancient book that’s said to be dated to nearly the begging of the vampire race. The book, Erebus, was said to be named after the Greek god of Darkness and Shadow. The book held secrets of different vampire clans at least twelve to be recorded. Ans in honor of Erebus or the Vampire Bible there was a temple that had been erected called the Temple of Eternal Night where many sacrifices were made and at this temple vampires had the option to allow specific abilities of their house to be transferred to another. There had been no word of what each ability a house possesses, only the names of the houses or “Shadow Council” were mentioned. Among his investigations he did discover the name of the twelve: Ashe, Cianteto, Dragonetti, Faustinas (that held two seats), Kobejitsu, Lemure, Ligaroo, Lobishomen, Pallintine, Upier, and Von Esper. Frost believed that uncovering this book would provide the answer as to why he had the ability he possessed or just do due to his unique experience._

_“Nin cirro leh ( **Pale man** )!” was called in Somali from the distance of the desert. Deacan turned away from the horizon and locked eyes on the dark-skinned man who was approaching him. Eezeek, his mind supplied him.  _

_“Dhaxan ( **Frost** )!” the man shouted again. The familiar stopped just a few feet away from him. The wind blew his loose clothing about him and rustled the man’s sweaty hair that hadn’t been stuck to his forehead as his dark skin gleamed in the suns light._

_“Waxaan helnay albaab. ( **We found a door** ). The man’s heavily accented voice flowed across the air. “Furfurnaantu waxay u egtahay mid sahlan oo lagu nadiifin karo waana in la sameeyaa maalmah.” ( **The opening looks easy enough to clear and should be done about midday** )._

_Deacan nodded to himself taking in the good news. He adjusted his glasses minutely making sure they were still in place._

_“Mahadsanid. Ii ogow marka ay cadahay in la isla markiiba tagoo oo ay leeyihiin shucaac diyaar ah.” ( **Thank you. Let me know when it’s clear to go in right away and have torches prepared** )._

_Eezeek nodded quickly before turning and walked back to the site. In the distance Deacan heard him should orders. After hours of waiting Eezeek sent a worker to fetch Deacan with the message of work being done. Deacon found himself greeted to a large doorway of at least ten feet high and four feet wide. It was just enough room for a procession of people to enter and exit at the same time. Two torches of fire were set to either side of the opening bathing only the immediate area and a few inches inside the opening with light. The doorway itself was nearly bare of any distinguaable features giving it the ablility to blend seamlessly in with the rest of the mountain face. The only noticanle marking to a vampire’s eyesight was on the doorway and the very top of the entrance. Written in an old form of Sumerian and vampire glyph was a word that he roughly translated to ‘Resting Place’._

_He continued in his examination as the workers gathered behind him. Further into the door torches were set at least every five feet leaving a slight continuous view in the walkway that could have been twenty to thirty feet long. Deacan made a solient motion of his hand and Eezeed came forward with two unlit torches in hand. He hands one to Deacan and then took a step inside. Deacon followed behind him with ten of the thirty men left behind._

_Leaving Eezeek to guide, he looked at the walls themselves, they held no significance only its natural deteriorating. If it was not for the glyph outside of the door, Deacon would believe this to be another dead end. There was no fan-fair about the place and much of it was left in its natural state. The most that was done were the rungs added to the wall for the torches. It was strange to see such a dull and virtually dead entrance compared to other excavation sights he saw on his journeys that told of magnificent stories in stark relief of those buried. It begs the question of how such a sacred text would be in such a dump. Removing one of his gloves he placed his hand very gently on the wall, giving it the barest of touches and jerked his hand back quickly when the skin was broken so easily. His fingertips looked like they had been shredded as pain radiated from wound. His healing was taking longer than expected to repair the damage. He wondered what this type of damage would do to a human. Leaning forward he sniffed at the wall and found no fumes were being emitted but a very fine gloss was detected on the surface, Frost would’ve missed it if he wasn’t so close._

_“Curiouser and curiouser.” He said to himself and straightened. The scientific aspect of his brain wanked to take samples of the wall and find out what it was while the other half wanted to know what was at the end of the hall. He rubbed the blood between his fingers as the pain finally dissipated to nothing and the skin finally came back together._

_“Dhaxan! ( **Frost** ). Eezeek called pulling the man from his musing._

_“Dhaxan!” ( **Frost** ). He called again._

_This time he stepped away from the wall and made his way to Eezeek. Leaving the long hallway, he noticed the doorway started to slant and narrow, forcing him to walk slower and at an angle to avoid the walls. He barely fit thru the opening due to his height. He received a few scratches to the back of his neck and was grateful for the multiple lays of cloth that protected him._

_Stepping into the antechamber the first thing he noticed was the vastness of the open space followed by a single slab of what could be stone that was in the center of the room. Eezeek was next to it bent over with the torch in hand. Looking past him and just at the room itself was extremely bare and had the stillness of death about it, nearly frozen in time._

_“Dhaxan, fliri tan.” ( **Frost look at this.** )_

_Moving across the dirt floor, he only saw the steps of Eezeeks men and his own. Approaching the stone slab, he was surprised to see that it wasn’t a sarcophagus but was close in its dimensions and size. Standing next to Eezeek now, they both looked down at its surface and saw hieroglyphs that matched ones on the outside of the site. The sight of the marking merely solidified his knowledge that he was in the right place. Observing the symbols, he was able to roughly translate what was carved on the top layer. ‘Blood is the key to life’ It was easy in his kind to understand what was being asked. With most of the workers scattered about the room he grabbed the nearest man that walked near him, snatching him roughly by the back of his neck._

_“Ya! Maxaad sameyneysaa?!” ( **Hey! What are you doing?!** ) The poor man shouted and flayed about. It drew Eezeeks attention and the others, but a single look from Frost stopped any of them from doing anything._

_“Waxaan u baahanahay dhiig” ( **I need blood** ) he spoke softly. Before the man could so much as pull away in fear, Deacan yanked the man forward, using his other hand he tore the cloth away from his neck and jerked his head back and to the side. Striking fast he bit viciously at his throat throwing his head about to make sure the would tore and bled extensively. With the hot blood splattering half his face he pulled away and took with him held of the man’s throat leaving a gaping maw. Releasing the front of the man, he pushed the excess skin into his mouth and absentmindedly began to chew it. He pushed the slowly dying man forward so that he began to bleed on the stones. Swallowing the chewed chunk of flesh, he sucked his lower lip in his mouth and savored the blood from his lips. _

_When the man bled sufficiently Deacan let him fall from his fingers and collapse on the dirt floor. Blood soon filled the deep grooves that surrounded the initial inscription. Soon the crimson liquid migrated across the entire surface and revealed two rows with six vampire glyphs to each row. Something had to be mixed in with the dust as well, which caused an ethereal glow of red to surround each character. He stepped over the dead man, to get a closer look at the beautifully crafted arrangement. The entire surface transformed before his very eyes, the blood spilt had been absorbed by the very structure. He watched as the glyphs themselves became blood red, while the rest of the sarcophagus lost its dusty hue and took on a rich gold color. Keeping his eye on the development he snapped his fingers to get Eezeeks attention._

_“Joorni iyo qalin” ( **Journal and pen** ) he demanded. _

_There was fumblings from Eezeek and then the familiar press of worn crack-faded leather stretched and bound in an old cord of black over thick stacks of paper. Keeping his eyes in front of himself, he opened the journal blindly to a blank page and began to sketch everything on the tomb._

_“Waxaan doonayaa sawirada wax walba. Hubso inay sax yihiin. Gaar ahaan albaabka albaabka.” ( **I want drawings of everything. Make sur they’re accurate. Especially the door at the entrance.** ) he commanded._

_“Haa mudane” ( **Yes, sir** ) rang thru the structure, as the men scrambled to follow orders.  _

_Partially turning to Eezeek he grabbed the man by the arm and brought him closer to where he stood. Directing his torch to be in the proper place for him. Even though he could see just fine in the low light, he enjoyed the way the fire reflected off the blood in the glyphs, giving an additional supernatural glow._

_“Halkaas joog” ( **Stay there** ) he murmured, as he continued to work on his sketches. For several minutes there was only quiet whispers as the men compared their work. As Deacan worked he took not of each glyph and how they differed. He could only assume that it represented each house and made the guess of which was. After finishing the last notation, he placed the pencil back into the book and closed it gently. Reaching down he brushed his finger over the glyph reverently, lightly tracing each stroke, dot, and shape. He stopped over the glyph of Dragonetti. The stone was slightly warm from the blood but smoot to the touch with its edges sharp. He applied pressure to the stone and watched in fascination as it moved and let itself be submerged into the blood. _

_Above them a large echoing noise of movement was heard. Dust and nits of rock fell from overhead. The men who had been in front of the sarcophagus shouted and ran from the center while everyone else had loop up. With his keen hearing he heard the pull of ropes and weights and counter measures moving as a space nearly three feet wide opened. Slowly three columns of paper had descended from the opening and presented itself._

_Deacon’s breath caught as he realized immediately was what in front of him. Without looking form, the papers, he handed over his book to Eezeek and walked around the platform._

_“The Book of Erebus.” he whispered to himself as he stopped in front of the papers and reached out to hesitantly touch them._

_Though it was smooth, it still held a slight roughness to it and almost felt like leather. Immediately tales of the book came to mind, and he know under his fingers was skin, human at that, and written on it must have been the blood of those it had belonged to._

_“Eezeek! Riix batoonka kale” ( **Eezeek! Press another button** ) he called. He heard him move and another series of noises rang out as more pages were gently lowered from the skyline. Deacan walked to newly revealed pieces. _

_“’…and on the third fortnight a sacrifice shall be made of pure blood…drink from the thousands…the creator and ruling…off to war…’”_

_“Dhammaan hoos u dhig. Si taxadar leh, ama dhammaantiin waan idin dili doonaa.” ( **Bring it all down. Carefully, or I will kill you all.** ) He stated and turned away from the pages and moved back to the platform. He retrieved his book from Eezeek and pressed the button the familiar had pressed. _

“That was the first time I had ever laid my eyes on the Erebus and the last time I was able to get so close to it. After I had made my notations and sketches it had been already quite fate for the men. I told them we would start fresh in the morning. But while I was on my own the men had been killed and opening to the Erebus was already sealed. Their bodies had been left for me to find in the morning of the next day, all of them in various states drained blood or missing body parts. It was quite a state to find them in, I wasn’t accustomed to seeing bodies just thrown about like they had been. They even took Eezeek from me.”

During the retelling Deacon had migrated to the kitchenette and retrieved fresh cups of blood. Drakes mug currently was held between his hands half full, while Deacons was empty and hanging precariously between limp fingers; his eyes lost in a haze of the past.

“That was how my obsession had taken to new heights and I became desperate to find who would keep them buried.”

“Is that how you stumbled upon my burial place?” Drake asked, his voice smooth, keeping the atmosphere relaxed.

“It wasn’t until years later. Since the death of the men there had been even vague whispers on who did it along with the rumor of the book being moved. My travels took me all around Europe and imagine my surprise when I found myself back in the Somalian desert and only four miles from where I first found the books. And you know the rest. You woke up and we all spent many happy years together.” He ended sarcastically.

Drake grunted lightly and sat the empty glass of blood on the table.

“Before I have you back into my services, I require information about Blade”

“Blade?” Deacan asked curiously. “Why? He’s just some half-breed that Frost cooked up.”

“Half-breed that he cooked up.” He repeated incredulously. He huffed a chocked off laugh. “This half-breed has been the cause of a series of problems from what I have gathered. He killed a version of you that was powered by the gods themselves and even managed to bring down the house of Damaskinos and his abominations. So, I will ask again, what is the origin of Blade? There is very little to glean of what happened.”

“Frost was fuckin around with mutants and created the delightful ball of fury known as Eric Brooks.” He said sarcastically.

He paused briefly and sighed. “Frost was my doppelganger and thru him I am indirectly Eric’s sire. I knew what Frost was up to, but the scientist in me wouldn’t stop it. I had to see what would come of the young man. But, when he looked as though he would give into the blood lust I acted as a Sire and sent a man named Whistler to him. To make their encounter genuine I hired a few vagrant vampires to kill his family and made sure the bitter old man found my boy.  And so, with him Eric became Blade and searched for Frost to kill him.

“And with La Magra?” Drake asked, refilling his cup again. Deacon sighed heavily and sat his mug on the table.

“In translating one of the books we found a passage that spoke of having the powers of a god but sacrifices first needed to be made. The blood of a day walker, and the twelve heads of the vampire nation, along with the tower to open the gateway of power. Frost got into genetic during the eighties and found out about mutants. That is the main reason for the difference with the Vampire Houses. The vampire strain got introduced into different mutations. So, if Frost wanted a Daywalker he needed a woman with a dormant mutant gene and pregnant. It was only luck that it worked. Genetic are a tricky thing to figure out.”

“I he had the Daywalker, why did he wait so long?”

“Because he was looking for something that matched the specification for the Temple of Eternal Night and there needed to be a reason to thane all the heads together in one city. So, what better way that to have a hunter is like us but so different.” he said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Hmm, that is quite clever.”

“Of course it is. It’s me.”

They both shared a laugh.

Deacon sighed heavily. “Well it did work. He became a carnation of La Magra. But because he had to wait, Blade was able to become strong enough without the need for blood and when he did finally taste it, it was enough for him to take on Frost and win.”

Both men sat in heavy silence, Deacan reflecting on the loss of himself and Drake of the past. Drake sat back in the chair and regarded Deacon. Though the man did not change physically he could see the age in his eyes and the zest for life he once held had diminished considerably.

“Would you have stopped him if you could?” Drake asked,

“Of course.” was the immediate answer, Deacans head having snapped up and stared intently at Drake. “I would do anything to have him back. He was me, but it was still refreshing to have someone who understood you impeccably…I long for that understanding again.”

Many saw Drake as being a hard man, but he loved deeply and cared for all his childer. Standing from his seat, he moved closer to Deacan.

“Is this what you were trying to do?” he asked motioning to the experiments.

Deacan gave a single nod.

“I have many abilities and you are a very brilliant scientist, but if you or I would try to bring him back, the consequences would be catastrophic, and you know it.” He said.

“He would not be the same man you once knew.”

“You don’t know that” came the horse reply.

“I have lived a millennia and I know what grief does. Ans this is what you are are doing. Grieving a part of yourself that has been lost and refusing to cope and move on. If you want to survive this and make it in my new world. You must let him go. You cannot live in the shadow of his memory like this.” he spoke gesturing to the condo and the layers of dust that settled on nearly everything. “Instead honor him like the warrior he was and reclaim yourself.”

“It will be hard, but I will give you a new purpose.”

There was a moment of silence between the men. For the past forty odd years Deacan had lived with an acute loss of Frost before his death, and he knows that the man was the same way for him, but both had let ambition get in the way of each other and that lead them both to their downfalls. But here in the face of this tragedy, the one man he had never expected to see again in his lifetime was offering him purpose again and pulling him from the senses he fought so hard to bring himself underneath as a means of created what he once had.

“What would you have me do?”

“I need an ally to put it bluntly. I have been asleep too long and our people are weak and arrogant in their weakness. Many will have no doubt forgotten or do not know who I am, and I will see to remedy that. There will be many after me for all I am about to do and will see to challenge my authority.”

“So, I shall be your eyes and ears.”

“That is one way of looking at it.”  He smirked.

“What do you want me to do?”

“It is as you said, being my eyes and ears. I also need my funds made available and a house to set up. Preferably with five to seven rooms, four full baths and two half-baths. Spacious kitchen, living room, dining room and functioning basement.”

“Quite a bit of space you’re gonna be needing.”

“Will you come back with me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

The two men reached and lifted their mugs in silent toast to each other and drained the last of their blood.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to my Saariibkiisa” ( **Mate** )

“Well I’ll be damned.” Deacan said chuckling with disbelief coloring his tone.

“We already are.” Drake responded with an answering smirk.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have pretty much the first part done of this series, its just getting it typed up it taking some time as well as some editing that gets done in the process. So I'll try to get the whole thing up soon. As well as get started on part 2. Without further due I bring you chapter 4. Enjoy
> 
> Pleas tell me your thoughts peeps.

Hannibal found himself waking again to a new environment, this time instead of the cold hard floor he grew accustomed to, he found himself surrounded from head to toe in a large comforter. With a mixture of exhaustion and appreciation he rolled onto his side and buried himself into the nest of warm of the firm bed that was doing wonders for his bare back. He released a huge yawn as he settled into large overly stuffed pillows, to let himself drift back to the arms of sleep. Hannibal was on the cusp of sleep when he realized he felt no pain in the usual places. Nothing in his shoulders, head, ribs, not even hunger. Sitting up slowly, he pushed the blanket down and tentatively reached up to touch his shoulder. The silver dollar size wound was completely gone, only found smooth skin left in its place. Not even a scar was visible. Taking the rest of this body, more smooth skin revealed itself to him.

“Shit….shitshitshitshitshithshitshit….” Panic set in deep in his chest as he memories began to come back. “Ohhhh shit. Fuck me sssideways.” He gasped out, his tossing brought to attention that he was also in bed without a single scrap of clothing on.

“What the…fuck.” One hand gripped the blankets close to his waist while the other went to his hair gripping the strands tight. Glimpses of seeing the Vampire King in that cell came to him. He remembered the desperation he felt and the sweet relief of having an urge be satisfied. He recalled how he drunk from the vampire and was lost in the haze of blood, the slutty way he grinded and moaned on the man. Chills racked him when tendrils of that man’s voice whispered back into his ear and being surrounded by steel bands of muscular arms and teeth that were gentle and erotic in his throat. His heard pounded and he felt all the blood rushing to his head sending him a wave of dizziness.

“Shh-shh-shh saaxiibkissa nabadda.” ( **Peace mate** ) “There is no need for panic” a dark voice spoke to him.

 He whipped his head sharply to the left and saw the vampire sitting across the large space of the room in the far corner. The man was relaxed gracefully in the overstuffed cushion chair. The vampire was dressed head-to-toe in tailored black clothing, expensive even to Hannibal's untrained eye. The button-down shirt, well what was considered a shirt was opened to the top of his sternum and expose the branded glyph of his house on the center of his chest along with two necklaces he wore on leather cord and a single ornament encased jewel hung on them. He sat back in the chair, his legs and arms crossed as he watched Hannibal. There was a gleam of satisfaction Hannibal saw in the man’s eyes and it sent an unfamiliar chill down his back causing him to squirm from the scrutiny. Hannibal was disappointment in himself for not realizing this man, this dangerous man who kidnapped and was in the room also. They sat in silence watching each other, after he managed to settle his heart and knew he had to stay on guard.

 “Shit, y-y-yo” he began, the cleared his throat. “You’re Drake?” he finally managed, looking around the room and took in the large space that he was in. The bed he was in was in was king size, a small ottoman at the foot of the bed. A few feet away was a table with two chairs and against the wall was Drake. 

“I am.”

“H-how how come I’m not in the cell?” he asked suddenly finding himself bereft of his normal confidence. He reached for the blankets and pulled them higher up to his chest. Hannibal was never one to be ashamed of his body and regularly jumped at any opportunity to shamelessly show it off, but the blatant hunger in the man's cat eyes was making him feel vulnerable for the first time. Christ, he felt like a girl being around her crush. Truthfully Hannibal blamed it on waking up in such a comfortable bed.

Drake unfolded his arms and leaned forward in his chair, interlocking his fingers and placing them on his crossed legs.

“That cell was no place for my mate and a grievous mistake on my part for assuming too much of those under me. I did not believe that I needed dispatch every single detail to them before I departed.” A dark look crossed his face, Hannibal had no doubt that whoever had been involved in his beating were no doubt dusted by now, well maybe except for Jarko. That super dyke was probably only safe because of Danica.

“Uh wait.” Hannibal held up a hand catching the man's attention. “What do you mean mate. What are you implying there big boy?”  He asked pressing his back against the headboard, feeling just a tad uncomfortable.

Drake regarded him silently then spoke, “You took part of my blood and I yours. Therefore, it was a willing acceptance to start the process of being mated. As it stands, you still retain your humanity, but with three more exchanges and a confirmation of the bond, you will be mine.” He smirked liking the deal idea all too well of turning Hannibal into the most perfect, deadly and beautiful hunter.

“Mmmm” Hannibal blinked, then blinked again as he listened. He had willingly drank blood. Just hearing about it brought back the memory of having that thick cloying fluid on his tongue, and the thickness of it as it went down his throat. He subconsciously licked his lips as if he could taste the richness of Drake’s blood. As well the memory of this man holding him close and undulating against him with pure raw sexual hunger. But underneath that feeling of comfort and pleasure was the fear of being a vampire again, his time with the vampire who first turned him came to him as well as the cruelty he suffered with Danica. To be used as a fuck toy once again. He was stuck in a cycle of pain and humiliation he went through as a human and a vampire, before he could fully comprehend the rest of the world his body was already in motion. His fight or flight instinct ran rapid, his blood rushing to his ears as his heart pounded and panic screamed from every pore. His hands turned to claws as he maintained a death grip on the blankets. Kicking his legs wildly he caused the cloth to be tangled around his legs as he struggled to leave the bed. He tipped violently to the side and found himself coming close to contacting the floor. Drake was there instantly to bring him into the strength of his arm and averted him from hitting his head on the side dresser. He easily deflected Hannibal's frantic hands out of the way and safely held him in his arms.

“Hush…easy Saaxiibkiisa. Why do you panic so?”  He asked calmly maneuvering Hannibal to be sideways in his lap as he sat on the bed. Hannibal still lost in the haze of memory continued to fight against the stronghold. From his perch, he twisted as much as he could as confusion colored his face then morphed into anger.

“What do you mean why am I panicking?! I’m gonna be deemed me your glorified fuck toy and you expect me to be fine and dandy about it? Making me into something I hunt and kill?” He shouted, in the heat of his anger. Coming from his gaze he remembered his training and attempted to hit him with a sharp elbow.

Drake found himself surprised at the outburst and swiftly moved to avoid the attack. In his time, to be taken as a mate by a powerful and capable by vampire was an honor. Though Drake understood the reference he was appalled and outraged that such a beautiful creature before him would perceive himself to be only wanted for his body and obtaining only that was the furthest thing from his mind.

“I have found myself to be attracted to your body, scent, blood and tales of your escapades since I stab you in Vance’s office and any information I could glean from those who worked here. I saw you as a warrior and worthy. I do not take the choice of a mate for eternity likely. If all I required was to have a quick fuck as they say I could find those anywhere. What I want is an equal.”

As he spoke, Hannibal felt that his struggles lessons and somehow through his speech Drake have managed to untangle his leg from the blanket and placed it modestly over his lap as he sat more comfortably on Drake.

“And what about Danica? She seemed to be foaming at the mouth for a chance to get on your dick?”  he demanded of the man as he turned away from him, glaring at the wall when the odd sensation of jealousy flow through him at the thought of being together.  

Drake’s laugh rumbled deep in his chest and gave a pleasant vibration to Hannibal; while Drake settled himself in enjoying the feel of his mate in his arms.

 “Any and all can see that she wants me only for the power I represent. She is aware that if she wanted even a single tether of what I can do, there would have to be a willing blood exchange of both parties. She would have killed me herself in that desert if she had the strength. I do not wish to be stuck with something so decaying for my eternity...I also find her lacking a serious quality.” He added as an afterthought.

“You mean a dick.” Hannibal said as though it was the obvious answer. “Cuz she pointed out many times how she doesn't have one and I know through personal experience that she turns into a little jealous bitch when it's brought up in front of her.” He staged whispered the last part and darted his eyes to the door as if Danica was going to burst thru them at any minute.

Drakes mouth lifted in a slight smile showing a bit of fang and amusement bright in his eyes. Just watching the man made Hannibal’s heart flutter, and it still disturbed him the reactions his body was having. A shiver worked its way down Hannibal’s back when the man spoke again.

“Loyalty is what I was referring to.” He told the other, heat spread thru Hannibal when Drake grabbed him by his chin and turned his head to meet his eyes. “You know we do not have a preference for bed partners.” Drake said.

Hannibal figured, the vampire was talking about his imprisonment and how he refused to give up any information on the Night-stalkers. Instead of addressing the underlying praise he was being given, he chose to ignore it and move away from him to establish space between himself and the Vampire king.

“True, you just fuck anything with a pulse.” he immediately regretted his words and turned away from him, the vampires lose grip released his face easily. He was finding it very puzzling his reactions to this demon.

The small smile that adorned his face was now gone. He rose from the bed easily with Hannibal still in his arms. He placed the man gently on the bed and turned to retreat to a small table with two chairs that was next to the chair Drake was fist siting in.

“It that no different from any creature.” He responded, “I see humanity do it on a daily basis in the forms of your pornography, whores, casual friends.” He said nearly spitting the words out as he sat back and crossed his legs once again. The material moved easily along his body and the constricting muscles of his legs drew Hannibal’s eyes.

“God, how the fuck do you know about that?” Hannibal asked as a means of distracting himself from the temptation of Drake.

“I would be a poor warrior and conqueror if I did not go out for reconnaissance and learn the world I am to rule.”

“Wait, you’ve only been here for like a month though.” He said skeptically, there could be no way he could adapt that fast to his day and age. Drake tilted his head to the side slightly and quirked a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“It has been four months, since I acquired you.”

“F-f-four months?” he gasped out.

“Yes.”

“What?’ He gasped out. “What about Zoë? She’s still alive right?” he asked in a panic, finally remembering that the small girl was also brought here along with him.

“The young girl is perfectly safe. I left her under Asher’s care.” He told him easily.

“Asher!” Hannibal exclaimed, his heart clenched tight and his body was in motion without second thought. When comparing Asher to Danica he was like a kitten, but on his own he was still just as devious, ruthless, and manipulative just like his sister.

Four fucking months he was out, and he didn’t know a damn thing about what could be happening to Zoë. He couldn’t trust just Drake’s word for obvious reasons. Just as he ripped the blanket from his body ignoring his nudity it should have come to no surprise when he felt the other man’s arms come about to encircle him again and restrain him to the bed.

“Let me go!” he shouted and struggled calling on remembered moves to defend himself/

“No. You must calm down. The girl is fine.” Drake against his ear, the blankets rustling against them. Hannibal pulled every move he knew about grappling against the other man and at most he gave Drake a split lip that healed instantly. When Hannibal felt the smooth leather against his body it reminded him again of how exposed he was. Taking that distraction Drake was able to securely get Hannibal pinned on his stomach and draped himself across the length of his back. Hannibal panted heavily with his arms pinned above his head and Drake lying between his legs. He pushed back slightly against the vampire, his ass brushing against the other privates. Drake pushed against him in response growling low in his chest that Hannibal felt spread along his back as well as down his spine just hearing the noise. He suppressed the gasp that ran thru him and tried to draw into himself.

“Let me go” Hannibal huffed out, turning his head he managed to make eye contact with Drakes golden orbs.

“No.”

Drake didn’t move and waited for the man to stop struggling. Hannibal didn’t expect for the weight to be comforting on him and he felt himself calming down considerably. He tried to hold on to his rage, but the growling Drake released every few seconds, ebbed it all away.

“How can you be so damn sure that she’s fine.” He demands after a few minutes.

“Because I check on her regularly. Hmm, it seems Danica went further than I expected if you are so unsure of the time changing. I will have to punish her for this. I apologize for this Consort.”

Such a simple statement of apology that held respect. Hannibal never received an apology like that. It was always said with sarcasm or with no sincerity. Being surrounded my Drake and his scent gave something to Hannibal he thought he’d never felt.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he asked.

“So much.”

“What do you want from me then? Why didn’t you kill me?” he turned his head away and laid it on the bed, inhaling the musky wildness of Drake.

Drake adjusted against his back and settled more of his weight on Hannibal’s back. It was a gently suffocation and Hannibal realized he didn’t want the man to move.

“Husband, Mate, Consort. What ever title you would prefer; but essentially, I want you by my side. What I said earlier is true. It wasn’t only the blood and your body I want. I need someone who is strong, beautiful, deadly and smart. You have these that I want. It was a bonus that your blood called to me like it does.” He sighed heavily, the warm breath puffing against Hannibal’s ear. The timber and vibrations sent chills of arousal down his spine. “With you at my side, we will be ruling the vampires. I will take into advisement whatever you have to say and give you the power to make decisions.”

“So, if I wanted Jarko to kill his little Pomeranian spawn he’d have to.”

“And what is that?” he asked chuckling.

“A small dog he mixed with the Reaper strain.”

“Interesting. If it were for just reason or cause the dog would be dead. But I---”

“Blatant revenge” Hannibal interrupted.

Drake laughed, the rumbles shook Hannibal and the bed.

“No, my Saariibkiisa.”

“Oh, you can’t be serious.” He stated. “No one would miss the little shit.”

“No.”  he retorted, giving a slight thrust of his hips, eliciting a lewd gasp from Hannibal.

“Yup, oh” he gasped, sucking in air through clenched teeth as he fought against his bodies natural response to thrust back. “Then you are seriously out of your ever-loving fucking mind.” He stated with conviction. This caused Drake to release another laugh and rock Hannibal gently into the bed.

“Will you at least get off me?” he asked after a moment, liking the feeling too much.

The man moved, but didn’t get off like Hannibal thought, instead he tucked his head into the crevasse of Hannibal’s neck and shoulder. The hairs along the back of his neck stood in attention. He drew a deep breath when the vampire inhaled deeply and sighed with a heavy groan in his ear. His body only tensed further when he felt the flickering wet tongue behind his ear. The tiniest tendril of fear started to pool in his belly with the realization that he was effectively pinned and had no means of defending himself if the other chose to take a bit out of him consort or not.

“I can take you to see her, if you prefer.” Drake spoke softly in his ear, then licked at the lobe.

Before he could answer someone knocked at the door.

“Enter” Drake called lifting his head and turning to the door.

Hannibal had the briefest moment of panic that he was either going to have to stay pinned or exposed. Drake took either option from him by siting up completely and letting his hands brush down his body. Drake gave a little groan and squeezed Hannibal’s butt cheek with one hand while other reached for the blanket that fell to the end of the bed. Hannibal reached back for the cover and pulled it up higher as he turned to face the door as it opened.

“Well look whose finally awake?” the man asked sarcastically. “You know you caused a lot of trouble when we found you in that cage” he spoke walking into the room.

Hannibal found himself speechless and his eyes wide as Deacon Frost stood before him…alive. He sat up on the bed slowly aware of the blankets draped over his body and stared in shock at the other man.

“You’re dead.” He was finally able to manage.

“I can very much prove to you that I’m not.” He said with a leer and raked his eyes over Hannibal’s body.

Hannibal glared and felt a growl bubble in his throat. “Blade killed you. I heard the stories.” He accused.

“Of course, he did.” Drake spoke as he positioned himself closer to Hannibal. Hannibal felt the man’s hand move around him and the blankets being pulled more secured into his lap. Hannibal whipped his head from the door to Drake.

“What the hell is going on?!” he demanded.

“This is Deacon Frost. My second.” Drake said, as if it was obvious.

“No shit, Sherlock. Every fuckin’ hunter knows who this is.” He said pointing at the man, that now moved into the room.

“I’ve brought clothes.” Deacon spoke up revealing a folded stack in his hands that Hannibal hadn’t noticed and tossed them on the bed. “Along with boots.” He pointed to the end of the bed.

“You didn’t answer me. This man is supposed to be dead.” he growled pointing at the other vampire.

“And from what I hear there is no cure for vampirism and yet here you are humanish” he said staring at Hannibal, leaning against the door jab with his arms crossed.

“We have to finish cleaning this dump soon if we’re gonna get started on the other ones.” he said to Drake.

“Understandably. Call everyone out to the meeting room and bring the child.” He ordered. Frost gave a mock solute and smirked at Hannibal, blew a kiss, then left the room the door closing silently behind him.

“Drake.” Hannibal bit out, finally turning to face the man.

“You must get dressed, we have much to accomplish and today.” He said and rose from the bed and walked over to one of the walls at the end of the bed, placing a hand on the surface and revealing a closet.

“What’s he talking about? Go where?” he asked scrambling out of the bed, pulling the blankets with him as he followed the man and came to stand close to him. Before the both of them was a large closet stuffed with clothing in every color, style, and fabric imaginable. The Vampire King walked in and stood before the section with pressed slacks. He grabbed a black pair of leather pants and a sheer black long sleeve top to be paired with it.

He briefly glanced at Hannibal before turning his eyes back to the clothes. “At the moment, I cannot go into extreme detail on what is to be commenced with the upcoming proceedings, but I will need for you to hold a civil tongue and I will allow the human child to stay with you during the meeting.” He spoke changing his clothes.

Hannibal cleared his throat lightly and turned away from him, he pulled the blankets a little higher and tighter around his waist. He tried not to stare at the large space of his back present before him. He bit his lip unconsciously and looked him up and down his eyes drifting to his ass when it was presented before him.

“So, I’m suppose to sit and look pretty?” he asked.

Drake turned around and did up the buttons of the leather pants that hugged his body perfectly. Hannibal noticed the lack of underwear and appreciated what was hidden, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

“Essentially. Many of the vampires in this clan who follow Danica will jump at the chance of you showing insubordination to me and proving that I have chosen wrong for a mate. We must deliver a union that is unbreakable and discontinue any challenge that will come out way.”

“And how do you plan we do that?”

“Dress first.”

Hannibal turned form the door and walked back to the bed. The pile of clothes was exactly where Frost had left them. He was a little apprehensive to put them on, knowing that they would be the perfect size.

“Quickly.” came Drake’s voice, causing him to turn slightly and see the man exiting the closet fully clothed.

Besides the clothes fitting like a glove, they also left nothing to the imagination but still retained the elegance of easy living and money and yet if need be he had the ability to defend himself. Turning back to the bed he picked up the first item of clothing, a fitted knit cool grey long sleeve sweater, and pulled it over his head.

“Tonight, half in attendance will see you as nothing but a toy and no threat to the current way of living. Some will even think that it will be acceptable if they lie with you. Apart will want to be in your place by my side. By granting me your complacency it will leave many of them guessing to my intentions with you. And if you cannot prove to remain stoic on your won, then I will be forced to lift my care on you and the child Zoë. Because I have yet to lay public claim over you, your actions will be your own. I doubt even with your impressive skills, you will be able to hold off thirty vampires and still protect the child. In the interest of you both it is best that you don’t defy me currently. I have just found you and I do not wish to lose you.”

Through out Drake’s speech, Hannibal slipped into the form fitting black jeans and sat on the edge of the bed, slipping on the black military style boots and tying them. As difficult as it was for Hannibal to admit to himself, Drake was right. If he wanted himself and Zoë to survive living here and explore whatever the hell it was between him and Drake, he’d have to play the game. Sitting back now he ran a tired hand thru his hair and gripped the back of his neck tightly. It was a lot to process at once, but he had no time to dwell.

“Alight. I want to see her before we go out.”

“She will be at the table seated next to you.”

Both men were quiet. Hannibal watched as Drake stood in front of a mirror by the closet and put on a tight long-sleeved black silk shirt. The fresh change of clothes brought some life back to Hannibal. Reaching behind himself, he grabbed the shirt and put it on also. Turning on the bed, he watched Drake’s face from the mirror. When Drake finished making the final adjustment to the garment on himself, he raised his eyes and met Hannibal’s gaze head on. A heady flush of desire ran through him. His breathing grew labored the longer he stared at the man, he licked his lips once again taking his full of Drake’s body. Still keeping eye contact Drake turned and growled lowly in his chest, the rumble traveling lightly in the air. He stepped away from the mirror and closed the closet door, returning the section of space back into a seamless wall. Hannibal felt trapped in his gaze as the predator approached and came to be in front of him. His legs fell open of their own accord and Drake stood easily between them. He brought his hands forward and grabbed Hannibal by his waist, pulling him towards the end of the bed. Hannibal was forced to raise his head to keep contact. He brought his hands up and grabbed the vampire by the face, the mans heat seared thru his fingers still not used to a vampire having body heat. Before he could second guess himself, he brought himself and slammed his lips against the other man. He moaned deep in his chest and pulled the Vampire King closer to him. Strong arms wrapped around him, and the vampire sighed against his lips. His head became fuzzy as he was embraced in the man’s scent. For once he did not associate the smell of a vampire with death of blood. Drake held a subtle musk to him that was inherently masculine. Drake broke the kiss after a few seconds and gave his bottom lip a light kiss. Hannibal held back the whimper that nearly seeped out when the man tried to pull away from him.  

“Gacaliye” ( **Beloved** ) “Do not worry, all will go fine tonight. You shall see.” He whispered against his lips before kissing them a final time and releasing his waist with a gentle caress and grabbed his hands to help him from the bed.

“You must be strong. Do not show weakness in front of them, especially when you see the girl. I will allow you to defend yourself against others, but do not be defiant towards me.”

Hannibal nodded mutely. His mind still lost in the hypnotic colors of Drake’s eyes, voice, and the all-consuming warmth that enveloped him now.

“Come.” He commanded. This time placing a kiss on the back of each hand and turned to the door to leave. When he opened it, Frost was just outside the room leaning against the wall.

“Well that was too quick for a quickie, but you took for fucking ever.” Frost said pushing off the wall with a cigarette between his lips.

Drake chuckled at the man.

“You comin’ pretty boy.” Frost called out blowing out a huff of air.

Hannibal turned and looked at both men who were watching him. They say it’s better the devil you know and currently Hannibal felt safer with these two killers that he had ever felt with the Night-stalkers. They made their wants loud and clear to your face, none of these social niceties. Taking a deep breath, he nodded to the men and readied himself for a new case of the crazies. All he knew was that he had to protect Zoë and Drake was offering him something that he never had plus more. Hannibal let a smirk curl across his lips.

“Right after you, pasty ass.”

Frost lout a bark of laughter and smirked back at the hunter, letting his fangs flash the man.

“Showtime.” He murmured to himself and let the door close behind himself. Throwing his shoulders back and head up, he walked with purpose. Drake in the middle, Frost on his right, with himself on the left.


End file.
